Sunday, December 23, 2007
Barbara Came Home Last Night!
Ever had a friend or family member gone for a long time and then picked them up at long last at the airport? You know you missed them, are eager to see them once again, but perhaps in their absence you haven't written or phoned like you had planned. Maybe you have fallen out of touch a bit.
You wait, now in the overcrowded holiday season packed converted 'waiting area' of the airport, never designed for the post security measures crowd. Then, at once, emotion floods. Your loved one is there. In the flesh, huggable, touchable, kissable.
Such was the case last night. I was posting away on a site. It has a GBLT area. I saw a couple of posts by a young transperson, and Barbara's heart when out to her. Just like that I was back. Tender heart, vulnerable, feeling lovely. No clothing, no make-up, no wig for the transformation, I just was. I nearly cried. I am a bit teary right about it now. I have been trying to get back to Barbara for sometime without success. I waxed my legs, she didn't appear. I bought some femme items I could feel her hovering near us at the thrift store, but she stayed just out reach. I went on to www.crossdressers.com
and re-connected with treasured friends there. I felt their warmth and welcome. But not Barbara.
I thought for a while with the new open communication that Dee and I have had with each other especially sexually lately that perhaps Barbara was all a dream, or a device, or a temporary blessing to get us through some tough times. I wondered if I was somehow a fraud. A dude in a dress acting out a kink just for a cheap sexual thrill.
I sit here, tears rolling down my cheeks, happy and soft. As Barbara. Still not playing dress-up, but I could. Dee just said its a shame we are broke. It would be a great time to go shopping. (Barbara is a bit looser with the purse strings.)
This morning I logged into my email and say a sweet note from my (Barbara's) big sister Paige. I've not said much about her in my blog, but despite the fact that my male side is older, Paige will always be my big sister. She so kindly led the teenage, giddy, scared, Barbara by the hand carefully out of the closet and into the beautiful light of day. Thanks, Paige, I've missed you also.
I have always met good friends in my travels. I have another adoptive big sister that seems to serve as a substitute for my actual sister that, sadly I am estranged from. Jessica seems to serve as sister to both my male side and my female side and helps me to connect with the authentic me no matter where I am on any given day on my own personal trangendered sliding scale. Thanks for the overburdened ear, Jessica.
And of course Dee is there through it all. When my gender repression probably erupts out as male irritability, when I am feeling pretty, when I am feeling silly, when I am dead sexy. Love you Dee.
With Love,
Barbara
You wait, now in the overcrowded holiday season packed converted 'waiting area' of the airport, never designed for the post security measures crowd. Then, at once, emotion floods. Your loved one is there. In the flesh, huggable, touchable, kissable.
Such was the case last night. I was posting away on a site. It has a GBLT area. I saw a couple of posts by a young transperson, and Barbara's heart when out to her. Just like that I was back. Tender heart, vulnerable, feeling lovely. No clothing, no make-up, no wig for the transformation, I just was. I nearly cried. I am a bit teary right about it now. I have been trying to get back to Barbara for sometime without success. I waxed my legs, she didn't appear. I bought some femme items I could feel her hovering near us at the thrift store, but she stayed just out reach. I went on to www.crossdressers.com
and re-connected with treasured friends there. I felt their warmth and welcome. But not Barbara.
I thought for a while with the new open communication that Dee and I have had with each other especially sexually lately that perhaps Barbara was all a dream, or a device, or a temporary blessing to get us through some tough times. I wondered if I was somehow a fraud. A dude in a dress acting out a kink just for a cheap sexual thrill.
I sit here, tears rolling down my cheeks, happy and soft. As Barbara. Still not playing dress-up, but I could. Dee just said its a shame we are broke. It would be a great time to go shopping. (Barbara is a bit looser with the purse strings.)
This morning I logged into my email and say a sweet note from my (Barbara's) big sister Paige. I've not said much about her in my blog, but despite the fact that my male side is older, Paige will always be my big sister. She so kindly led the teenage, giddy, scared, Barbara by the hand carefully out of the closet and into the beautiful light of day. Thanks, Paige, I've missed you also.
I have always met good friends in my travels. I have another adoptive big sister that seems to serve as a substitute for my actual sister that, sadly I am estranged from. Jessica seems to serve as sister to both my male side and my female side and helps me to connect with the authentic me no matter where I am on any given day on my own personal trangendered sliding scale. Thanks for the overburdened ear, Jessica.
And of course Dee is there through it all. When my gender repression probably erupts out as male irritability, when I am feeling pretty, when I am feeling silly, when I am dead sexy. Love you Dee.
With Love,
Barbara
Thursday, December 20, 2007
The Care and Maintenance of Barbara
I have neglected the blog here as my few regular readers may have noticed. This is more an indicator of my neglect of my entire Barbara persona than lack of interest in writing or blogging in general.
It seems to have started when I realized that I was constrained by circumstances outside of myself from maintaining Barbara's smooth legs. In male mode its the thing I would notice first so naturally it is one f the things that defines Barbara. Seems silly given that I went decades without really wanting to shave, that I would feel angst at all about it. I think though that crossdressing is a progressive condition. The more involved your preparations are for transforming yourself get the higher the bar is set. Once I saw myself in a skirt, mere pantyhose wasn't going to suffice. Add another layer of a wig and make-up and tasteful clothes, and that becomes the point where I feel like Barbara. I still like the soft satiny feel of a nice pair of panties but that is a comfort to my male side, not really anymore a step towards feeling en femme as it was in the past.
As I said in a previous post realizing how much I missed smooth legs scared me a little. If I miss it is important. If so I have to re-evaluate in my heart and mind where it is I fit in on the spectrum of wants, needs and behaviors that is described as "being trans-gendered". I like to believe that I am a fetishist. Why than the angst at doing without that that I did nicely without for so long in the past? Why is is such a comfort. Why is it less and less of a sexual thrill, while maintaining its allure in indescribable ways? And most un-answerable, what does any of this mean now and especially in the future. If I dress more will I be sated or demand ever-more?
Tonight I was going through my closet sorting a bit. I have skirts that I purchased after I had lose 20 lbs and a couple of sizes that are now much to big. This one skirt is cute and I never really ever wore it. It is a size 12 wrap-around reversible skirt. green plaid on one side a green floral print on the other. Even the label is cleverly reversible. I wrapped it around me and tucked it in to itself. (The skirt! not well the other!) I wore it as I surfed the net and spent some time on an adult site that my wife and I have been enjoying together as of late. It felt nice to be so, and it seemed silly I don;t dress just for emotional comfort. Whether that sates me or raises my desire to dress more shouldn't be the criterion for whether I dress or to what degree.
As I vacillate about these issues I can feel Barbara slipping away, and it makes me sad.Best evidence of this is the fact that I can't get her out of third person.
It seems to have started when I realized that I was constrained by circumstances outside of myself from maintaining Barbara's smooth legs. In male mode its the thing I would notice first so naturally it is one f the things that defines Barbara. Seems silly given that I went decades without really wanting to shave, that I would feel angst at all about it. I think though that crossdressing is a progressive condition. The more involved your preparations are for transforming yourself get the higher the bar is set. Once I saw myself in a skirt, mere pantyhose wasn't going to suffice. Add another layer of a wig and make-up and tasteful clothes, and that becomes the point where I feel like Barbara. I still like the soft satiny feel of a nice pair of panties but that is a comfort to my male side, not really anymore a step towards feeling en femme as it was in the past.
As I said in a previous post realizing how much I missed smooth legs scared me a little. If I miss it is important. If so I have to re-evaluate in my heart and mind where it is I fit in on the spectrum of wants, needs and behaviors that is described as "being trans-gendered". I like to believe that I am a fetishist. Why than the angst at doing without that that I did nicely without for so long in the past? Why is is such a comfort. Why is it less and less of a sexual thrill, while maintaining its allure in indescribable ways? And most un-answerable, what does any of this mean now and especially in the future. If I dress more will I be sated or demand ever-more?
Tonight I was going through my closet sorting a bit. I have skirts that I purchased after I had lose 20 lbs and a couple of sizes that are now much to big. This one skirt is cute and I never really ever wore it. It is a size 12 wrap-around reversible skirt. green plaid on one side a green floral print on the other. Even the label is cleverly reversible. I wrapped it around me and tucked it in to itself. (The skirt! not well the other!) I wore it as I surfed the net and spent some time on an adult site that my wife and I have been enjoying together as of late. It felt nice to be so, and it seemed silly I don;t dress just for emotional comfort. Whether that sates me or raises my desire to dress more shouldn't be the criterion for whether I dress or to what degree.
As I vacillate about these issues I can feel Barbara slipping away, and it makes me sad.Best evidence of this is the fact that I can't get her out of third person.
Sunday, December 16, 2007
Big Brother in Heels.
The boy came into our room and without pre-amble grabbed a pair of heels from the closet door. This time, apparently in a more conservative mood, got a pair that actually WAS my wife's. He usually prefers mine as they are a little more camp.
He slung a long Tigger-like toy around his neck like a mink stole. He attached anther stuffed animal to his forehead using a large rubber band. He clomped and posed and generally had fun.
He was trying to attract the attention of the toddler. My wife asked him if he is playing the sister or is he just the big brother in heels? Without hesitation he said, the big brother in heels. Its just fun, as it should be.
He is so getting his own pair of heels for Christmas. We already bought them on dollar day, they are tiny like size 5 probably, but with a 3-4 inch heel. So that they are available but not obvious they are going to be tucked into a dress-up box we have been working on including a nice waiters jacket, a gangster suit, and various hats, Halloween masks, and just maybe a ball gown..:)
He slung a long Tigger-like toy around his neck like a mink stole. He attached anther stuffed animal to his forehead using a large rubber band. He clomped and posed and generally had fun.
He was trying to attract the attention of the toddler. My wife asked him if he is playing the sister or is he just the big brother in heels? Without hesitation he said, the big brother in heels. Its just fun, as it should be.
He is so getting his own pair of heels for Christmas. We already bought them on dollar day, they are tiny like size 5 probably, but with a 3-4 inch heel. So that they are available but not obvious they are going to be tucked into a dress-up box we have been working on including a nice waiters jacket, a gangster suit, and various hats, Halloween masks, and just maybe a ball gown..:)
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Well hirsute didn't survive the day.
The plan was to take some tasteful manly pictured, before I got around to shaving. The potential babysitters were gone, so we didn't get around to that. I didn't think I was feeling a really strong urge to denude. I figured I would wait until we had a Barbara photo shoot to shave or wax so I'd be as smooth as possible.As things wound down around here I decided, that I'd rather wax than shave and it can be a several session process to get from Sasquatch to smooth and lovely mode. I started with the parts I could reach, my shins and knees, a little of my calves and parts of my thighs. I tried a little of my belly myself. ALWAYS a mistake to try that yourself. Do NOT try this at home, kids. I had Dee help me rip those out, and cajoled her into helping a few more areas. Once I started and could see actual legs for the forest I wanted it all gone. I finally like I usually do gave up and shaved the rest. I left some of the back of my legs for another session.
Spotted one of Dee's nighties on the back of the bathroom door and slipped it on...feels nice to be relatively smooth again. Had to reduce pic size here or you'd see my still partially hairy knees. :)
Went to a thrift store again today...
Bought nothing femme unless you count the Calvin Klein button fly jeans for my manly photo-shoot. I got a pair of Justin Western boots for $7 too. Dee made me pass on a genuine Stetson for $24 not because of price but because it was the official authorized version of by Burt Reynold's in the acclaimed Smokey and the Bandit
Speaking of, I didn't have occasion to outrun any Smokeys on my last trip. I managed a leisurely 75 mph average speed over a distance of 435 miles. Which is pretty impressive if you saw the construction zones, the times I really did slow down through hall the small towns and the no-passing crawls. I never went over 120 miles per hour as I told a nice old lady at the clinic that mentioned she thought I drove a little too fast.The boots were nice and fit well. I wrote about them and the Justin Roper's I found for Dee one night of dumpster diving on my diving blog here.
It wasn't that I wasn't feeling femme at all its just that Barbara has a pretty extensive wardrobe that I haven't been able to wear all of yet, let alone out somewhere.
At one thrift store Dee refused to use the dressing rooms because they had curtains instead of actual lockable doors. I picked a stall to try on the jeans, and noticed a red sparkly medium sized cocktail dress. How fun I thought. At $24 I wasn't going to buy it, but maybe to try on. I sat and was taking off my boots when an older lady stuck her head in my stall and said, "Oh, sorry!" with a blush. Imagine her chagrin if I had been halfway into that cocktail dress. I placed my boots near the front to signal that a manly man was gettin' disrobe-ed in thar'. No one bothered me while I tried on the dress. (It did fit OK but I am not so into the 80's shoulder pads look). Jeans fit, and rather than hassle with changing back I pulled on my boots and transfered my pocket litter to my new jeans. I paid for my old jeans again on the way out making my new ones free, and my old ones cost about $3 total.Since I am STILL under 130 despite eating country-style at my sister-in- law's on my trip, I had some greasy and delicious fish and chips for dinner. All in all a good day.
Friday, December 7, 2007
Back and feeling pretty macho.
Having just had the adrenaline-fueled, put-hair-on-your-chest, high-speed dash through the mountains, I'm still not feeling that femme. I went 435 miles though hills and curves and construction zones, and small town speed traps in a combined total of 5 hours 15 minute. No close calls with the cops this time!
Physical went well I think. I went in lean and healthy 42 lbs lower than I was when I started crossdressing in earnest just in May. The staff was very professional and I can;t imagine that they would have had any problem at all if I had shaved, but given it is a small town facility, I had been a bit paranoid about it. Shouldn't have worried about it.
Now that I can shave/wax/veet/trim at will, I feel much better eve though I haven't. It was really odd how antsy I was about being hairy when it didn't feel like my choice. We have been taking some artsy (and less artsy) pics lately, and I am leaning towards leaving the manly look for a while.
That could easily change in a heartbeat though. During this time I was holding off denuding, I bought a lot of cute things that I am dying to see on with smooth legs..:)
Physical went well I think. I went in lean and healthy 42 lbs lower than I was when I started crossdressing in earnest just in May. The staff was very professional and I can;t imagine that they would have had any problem at all if I had shaved, but given it is a small town facility, I had been a bit paranoid about it. Shouldn't have worried about it.
Now that I can shave/wax/veet/trim at will, I feel much better eve though I haven't. It was really odd how antsy I was about being hairy when it didn't feel like my choice. We have been taking some artsy (and less artsy) pics lately, and I am leaning towards leaving the manly look for a while.
That could easily change in a heartbeat though. During this time I was holding off denuding, I bought a lot of cute things that I am dying to see on with smooth legs..:)
Thursday, December 6, 2007
Smooth again soon.
I stopped shaving and waxing now almost 2 months ago. I'm back to my macho furry self, and its really hard to feel femme like that. Funny how I miss it since I went most of my life that way without any angst over body hair.
As I have mentioned previously I think, I realize that many people with gender identity issues have very real feelings of dislike for their birth gender. I have never had this diaspora towards my gender. I have long admired the other gender and sometimes wished I was, but in reality I would prefer to be fluid in my gender expression and able to float between the two.
I stopped shaving because I had an idea about dressing up as a good friend of mine who passed away several years ago. Will used to wear a leather vest (With a .45 ACP in a shoulder holster.) I found a similar vest in a thrift store. My wife really likes my face with a beard so the plan was to let my beard grow for a month, shave the beard for Halloween leaving a mustache like Will's When I knew him he was bald n top friar tuck style. I am balding, but not quite that sparse. I was going to leave a fringe and go as him as kind of a tribute.
So abo0ut this time a job I had applied online clear back in June called. I have an actual profession that on an hourly basis pays up to 10 times what the new job pays, but my assignments have been painfully sporadic. I have no benefits, health care, retirement, etc etc.
The new job is in an environment about as macho as it comes. I wanted the job. I felt antsy as the interview approached not about the interview but because I felt I couldn't shave because there might be a physical. If I had the job I would hope I would be brave enough to groom my body as I see fit, but I am no crusader for the transgendered. SO the interview went well I thought, I came home and shaved my head and face which felt good, but not specifically femme. The next step was a background check and then a physical, 2-3 weeks I thought. I figured I could wait.
As the weeks dragged into over a month and I didn't hear, I grew depressed, mostly I think because I can't even get what seems like a fairly basic job. I finally had some break-throughs on the femme side. I have gotten some tips on my, er, technique from a bi-sexual friend, to rave reviews from Dee who had had no complaints previously. She reports that she was able to see and feel me as Barbara, even en homme, and that felt good and validating.
Last night a weird number came across the display on my caller id, it was only 4 digits. I thought it was the automated reminder that my payment on the phone was overdue. I picked it up and hung it up. Fortunately they called back. Thinking the computer needed a couple of seconds connection before it would release the call, I answered. It was the job.
They made me an offer, I accepted it. They wondered when I wanted to schedule the physical. I said ASAP!!!!!! I am leaving to make the 550 mile round trip now. I plan to be smooth as can be by Saturday!
As I have mentioned previously I think, I realize that many people with gender identity issues have very real feelings of dislike for their birth gender. I have never had this diaspora towards my gender. I have long admired the other gender and sometimes wished I was, but in reality I would prefer to be fluid in my gender expression and able to float between the two.
I stopped shaving because I had an idea about dressing up as a good friend of mine who passed away several years ago. Will used to wear a leather vest (With a .45 ACP in a shoulder holster.) I found a similar vest in a thrift store. My wife really likes my face with a beard so the plan was to let my beard grow for a month, shave the beard for Halloween leaving a mustache like Will's When I knew him he was bald n top friar tuck style. I am balding, but not quite that sparse. I was going to leave a fringe and go as him as kind of a tribute.
So abo0ut this time a job I had applied online clear back in June called. I have an actual profession that on an hourly basis pays up to 10 times what the new job pays, but my assignments have been painfully sporadic. I have no benefits, health care, retirement, etc etc.
The new job is in an environment about as macho as it comes. I wanted the job. I felt antsy as the interview approached not about the interview but because I felt I couldn't shave because there might be a physical. If I had the job I would hope I would be brave enough to groom my body as I see fit, but I am no crusader for the transgendered. SO the interview went well I thought, I came home and shaved my head and face which felt good, but not specifically femme. The next step was a background check and then a physical, 2-3 weeks I thought. I figured I could wait.
As the weeks dragged into over a month and I didn't hear, I grew depressed, mostly I think because I can't even get what seems like a fairly basic job. I finally had some break-throughs on the femme side. I have gotten some tips on my, er, technique from a bi-sexual friend, to rave reviews from Dee who had had no complaints previously. She reports that she was able to see and feel me as Barbara, even en homme, and that felt good and validating.
Last night a weird number came across the display on my caller id, it was only 4 digits. I thought it was the automated reminder that my payment on the phone was overdue. I picked it up and hung it up. Fortunately they called back. Thinking the computer needed a couple of seconds connection before it would release the call, I answered. It was the job.
They made me an offer, I accepted it. They wondered when I wanted to schedule the physical. I said ASAP!!!!!! I am leaving to make the 550 mile round trip now. I plan to be smooth as can be by Saturday!
Friday, November 23, 2007
Trashy Blogs are up and running...
Ive got 6 posts up on my new dumpster diving blog. That one will be linked from here but not in reverse. I want to be able to let the kids read that one, so I'll avoid mentioning my little hobby there. So far I've got a couple of recipes up there for using ingredients I have found.
The no-olds barred boudoir blog that Dee and I started has been picked up by one site that steers the occasional random stranger by, but so far only about 25 random strangers have peered in through our curtains. Thats kind of interesting. And no, we won;t be linking that blog for anyone we actually know. In the extemely unlikely event that you are one of the 25 who have seen it, mum's the word, k?
The no-olds barred boudoir blog that Dee and I started has been picked up by one site that steers the occasional random stranger by, but so far only about 25 random strangers have peered in through our curtains. Thats kind of interesting. And no, we won;t be linking that blog for anyone we actually know. In the extemely unlikely event that you are one of the 25 who have seen it, mum's the word, k?
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Feeling better still.
Shopping will do that.
Not that it wasn't without its challenges.
Backing up a bit, I was feeling better this morning, then Dee came home. I didn't know what of the below post I wanted to discuss with her. She must have sensed my reticence . Despite the fact that I felt better, that message hadn't yet been transmitted to my visage so she still saw a mopey long face. She said she was worried about me and offered to make me some breakfast which I declined. I then thought better of declining as it just reinforced my sullenness. I went down and talked to her, tried to explain to her what it was about her post that upset me. She offered to take it down, said she should have just journaled privately. I tried and probably failed to convey it isn't that she posted it publicly but the fact that she at least as she wrote it felt that way about me. Anyway I had some malt-o-meal with a few frozen blueberries and Splenda.
She did take down the post. She also mentioned the actual password that I had gotten an email saying she had changed it. That didn't bother me since I hadn't known or cared to know the password previously. I found it interesting that she chose a word that seemed to indicate an interest in some sort of retribution. She insists that I am reading to much into it. As soon as she changes the password to something else I shall post the word and it will be most apparent that there was some sort of Freudian association,and I don't mean just in my mind.
Anyway enough of that.. Any residual hard feelings I had I used up on Chase Bank through the marvelous psychological device of transference. Dee got paid and sent me to the bank with her paycheck and ATM card. I was to make the deposit of the relatively small check and get $40 out for our shopping spree. The MFing bank did not make the funds available until tomorrow. I find this out AFTER I had made the deposit and checked the ATM. They assured me that there is not "HOLD" on the funds, just they are not "AVAILABLE". I fail to see the relevance of this distinction. I had spotted an older Pierre Cardin Couture collection custom suit in my size for $1 and needed to get right back and buy it.
I ended up driving to another city to collect $350 from a client and since there was a Goodwill Store there, I browsed a bit before going back to the one with "my" suit. Of course it was gone. Despite the fact that it had sat available for $1 on Monday and Tuesday unmolested, I spot it turn my back and its gone. :( My second choice was a sport coat worthy of Herb Tarlick that Dee vetoed.
The first Goodwill yielded a woman's all-wool double-breasted jacket that was mis-filed in the mens area that fits me well. I got a plain oatmeal polo shirt by Saks 5th Avenue. I got a woman's blouse with a hood. Not sure about the cut but loved the cerulean blue color. At the site of my great suit disappointment I really got nothing, but Dee met me there and got a cart full of stuff. She did find me a pair of Rockies brand cowgirl jeans. I bought a half dozen Corelle brand mis-matched cereal bowls for 50 cents a piece. They are nice because they are microwave and oven proof.
Nursing a minor headache I am recharging and planning to go out once again to yet another store.
Oh almost forgot. I was also trying to just do SOMETHING anything productive to kick start my day. I decided to gather a bunch of dove-for items that I have only saved with an intention to donate. None of the items were things we needed or would fit anyone now or in the future. I found 3 pairs of jeans, 5 pairs dress pants, a dozen t-shirts, a sweatshirt, a jacket, a couple of CD towers and an overstuffed chair. In the light of day the overstuffed chair looked a little grim. I loaded them all up hanging out of my hatchback and dumped them at Goodwill for a nice tax deductible receipt. The house will be a lot more orderly if I donate something every time we go in to shop.
Not that it wasn't without its challenges.
Backing up a bit, I was feeling better this morning, then Dee came home. I didn't know what of the below post I wanted to discuss with her. She must have sensed my reticence . Despite the fact that I felt better, that message hadn't yet been transmitted to my visage so she still saw a mopey long face. She said she was worried about me and offered to make me some breakfast which I declined. I then thought better of declining as it just reinforced my sullenness. I went down and talked to her, tried to explain to her what it was about her post that upset me. She offered to take it down, said she should have just journaled privately. I tried and probably failed to convey it isn't that she posted it publicly but the fact that she at least as she wrote it felt that way about me. Anyway I had some malt-o-meal with a few frozen blueberries and Splenda.
She did take down the post. She also mentioned the actual password that I had gotten an email saying she had changed it. That didn't bother me since I hadn't known or cared to know the password previously. I found it interesting that she chose a word that seemed to indicate an interest in some sort of retribution. She insists that I am reading to much into it. As soon as she changes the password to something else I shall post the word and it will be most apparent that there was some sort of Freudian association,and I don't mean just in my mind.
Anyway enough of that.. Any residual hard feelings I had I used up on Chase Bank through the marvelous psychological device of transference. Dee got paid and sent me to the bank with her paycheck and ATM card. I was to make the deposit of the relatively small check and get $40 out for our shopping spree. The MFing bank did not make the funds available until tomorrow. I find this out AFTER I had made the deposit and checked the ATM. They assured me that there is not "HOLD" on the funds, just they are not "AVAILABLE". I fail to see the relevance of this distinction. I had spotted an older Pierre Cardin Couture collection custom suit in my size for $1 and needed to get right back and buy it.
I ended up driving to another city to collect $350 from a client and since there was a Goodwill Store there, I browsed a bit before going back to the one with "my" suit. Of course it was gone. Despite the fact that it had sat available for $1 on Monday and Tuesday unmolested, I spot it turn my back and its gone. :( My second choice was a sport coat worthy of Herb Tarlick that Dee vetoed.
The first Goodwill yielded a woman's all-wool double-breasted jacket that was mis-filed in the mens area that fits me well. I got a plain oatmeal polo shirt by Saks 5th Avenue. I got a woman's blouse with a hood. Not sure about the cut but loved the cerulean blue color. At the site of my great suit disappointment I really got nothing, but Dee met me there and got a cart full of stuff. She did find me a pair of Rockies brand cowgirl jeans. I bought a half dozen Corelle brand mis-matched cereal bowls for 50 cents a piece. They are nice because they are microwave and oven proof.
Nursing a minor headache I am recharging and planning to go out once again to yet another store.
Oh almost forgot. I was also trying to just do SOMETHING anything productive to kick start my day. I decided to gather a bunch of dove-for items that I have only saved with an intention to donate. None of the items were things we needed or would fit anyone now or in the future. I found 3 pairs of jeans, 5 pairs dress pants, a dozen t-shirts, a sweatshirt, a jacket, a couple of CD towers and an overstuffed chair. In the light of day the overstuffed chair looked a little grim. I loaded them all up hanging out of my hatchback and dumped them at Goodwill for a nice tax deductible receipt. The house will be a lot more orderly if I donate something every time we go in to shop.
Happiness is....
....a warm cuddly child on a cool morning. Remember those Charles Schulz cartoons featuring Peanuts characters?
It has been so blasted hot this year that I am starting to wonder If I wouldn't have been better off voting for the genius that invented the internet and lives in a several thousand square foot eco-friendly glass house from whence he throws rocks.
Its actually nice to feel chilly finally now that the elusive season of autumn is almost over.
I've been really down the last couple of days. I have been trying (very unsuccessfully) not to appear sullen and petulant. I have a lot on my mind and a lot on my plate. I have a lot of time on my hands and am making poor use of it. Money is a serious ongoing problem with no improvement even imaginable over the horizon. A really good friend of mine from boyhood is in town. He went through a similar financial funk for a while and recently sort of fell into an ideal job paying the most he has ever made for doing what he loves. He has offered his sympathies and a collection of financial self-help CD's. Neither are going to pay for food for 7 people 3 cats, and two dogs. I dreaded his visit to my home yesterday. It went well, he and his newer wife were very gracious and non-judgmental about the hovel I call a home. Given that for all practical purposes I am unemployed I could make more of an effort to clean up after the other creatures I cohabitate with as well as myself. It is such an unbelievable mess. I occasionally will spend several hours trying to make the kitchen conform to UN guidelines for the sanitation of eating facilities in third world countries, but give it a few hours and it is as bad as before. NO one uses any of the 12 to 15 f'ing trash cans ever. Why should they when there are piles of refuse everywhere.
I am upset most of all by an entry on my wifes blog. There she publicly calls bullshit generically speaking on my life,my words, my actions my intentions. We had a rough patch a few days ago, talking only made it worse, we agreed not to talk about it, and I encouraged her to talk to her friends, the world whomever just so she doesn't feel isolated. She objected that if she talks to mutual friends about it it will shame me. I said I don't care. I apparently do. I understand her frustration with me, I truly do. I object mostly to her wanting to know just enough details to give fuel to her imagination, but not enough to put some of her unfounded fears to rest. She emailes, blogged and apparently felt better. Was even apparently somewhat amorous. I felt small that I couldn't reciprocate. That I felt myself pulling away.
On top of all of the above, we had both incurred a huge sleep debt the last couple of weeks. We had spent our Deficit of wakefulness in the most delightful ways, but it was a debt like all others that eventually must be paid. I think I might have settled up on that finally. I arose at what I thought was a little after 5:00 am when the dogs barked at the anal retentive OCD neighbor who must exit his side door every morning making them sound off rather than using his front door. I wasn't ready to kill the dogs this time (the neighbor lives only because I don't want to return to jail.) Turns out the clock that sets itself with some sort of satellite signal, is unaware that my area doesn't follow daylight savings time.
Either way I am not particularly sleepy, but the toddler is. Dee leaves in the morning for a short while to help at her work then comes home for breakfast before leaving again. The toddler s often difficult during that short absence. This morning with the chill she is snuggled up next to me and seemingly feeling me with some of the self-love I seem to lack as of late. It feels, if not like happiness, a little less melancholy.
It has been so blasted hot this year that I am starting to wonder If I wouldn't have been better off voting for the genius that invented the internet and lives in a several thousand square foot eco-friendly glass house from whence he throws rocks.
Its actually nice to feel chilly finally now that the elusive season of autumn is almost over.
I've been really down the last couple of days. I have been trying (very unsuccessfully) not to appear sullen and petulant. I have a lot on my mind and a lot on my plate. I have a lot of time on my hands and am making poor use of it. Money is a serious ongoing problem with no improvement even imaginable over the horizon. A really good friend of mine from boyhood is in town. He went through a similar financial funk for a while and recently sort of fell into an ideal job paying the most he has ever made for doing what he loves. He has offered his sympathies and a collection of financial self-help CD's. Neither are going to pay for food for 7 people 3 cats, and two dogs. I dreaded his visit to my home yesterday. It went well, he and his newer wife were very gracious and non-judgmental about the hovel I call a home. Given that for all practical purposes I am unemployed I could make more of an effort to clean up after the other creatures I cohabitate with as well as myself. It is such an unbelievable mess. I occasionally will spend several hours trying to make the kitchen conform to UN guidelines for the sanitation of eating facilities in third world countries, but give it a few hours and it is as bad as before. NO one uses any of the 12 to 15 f'ing trash cans ever. Why should they when there are piles of refuse everywhere.
I am upset most of all by an entry on my wifes blog. There she publicly calls bullshit generically speaking on my life,my words, my actions my intentions. We had a rough patch a few days ago, talking only made it worse, we agreed not to talk about it, and I encouraged her to talk to her friends, the world whomever just so she doesn't feel isolated. She objected that if she talks to mutual friends about it it will shame me. I said I don't care. I apparently do. I understand her frustration with me, I truly do. I object mostly to her wanting to know just enough details to give fuel to her imagination, but not enough to put some of her unfounded fears to rest. She emailes, blogged and apparently felt better. Was even apparently somewhat amorous. I felt small that I couldn't reciprocate. That I felt myself pulling away.
On top of all of the above, we had both incurred a huge sleep debt the last couple of weeks. We had spent our Deficit of wakefulness in the most delightful ways, but it was a debt like all others that eventually must be paid. I think I might have settled up on that finally. I arose at what I thought was a little after 5:00 am when the dogs barked at the anal retentive OCD neighbor who must exit his side door every morning making them sound off rather than using his front door. I wasn't ready to kill the dogs this time (the neighbor lives only because I don't want to return to jail.) Turns out the clock that sets itself with some sort of satellite signal, is unaware that my area doesn't follow daylight savings time.
Either way I am not particularly sleepy, but the toddler is. Dee leaves in the morning for a short while to help at her work then comes home for breakfast before leaving again. The toddler s often difficult during that short absence. This morning with the chill she is snuggled up next to me and seemingly feeling me with some of the self-love I seem to lack as of late. It feels, if not like happiness, a little less melancholy.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Thinking of starting another trashy blog...
I have mentioned in online vanilla communities as well as here that I am fascinated by what people throw away. It appeals to my voyeur side, my thrifty side, my adaptive talents in re-purposing other's discards.
I have often thought it would be fun to keep track of the approximate retail value of what it is I find, maybe take a few pictures. I enjoy doing it even when I have no need financially to do so. In fact I am more likely to do so if it isn't a needful thing, I have nothing against those that do subsistence diving and have done so myself. Wen I am out lurking in the night and on the rare occasion I see another diver, I often try to discern whether they are a for profit salvage expert or someone just down on their luck. If the former I will swoop in ahead of them and feel no pangs of conscience in leaving the cupboard bare. If I see signs that someone else is frequenting the same dumpster I visit, I will set aside things that I don't need in a place they will see on their visit.
Lately it has been a subsistence thing for me. Business is non-existent. I was renegotiating the repayment of my mortgage with a couple of different reps at my mortgage holder's servicing agent. They found my estimate for groceries and sundries for 7 persons to be unrealistically low. It was in fact higher than I actually spend.
I am a supremely competent scrounge. I can find just about anything if I have the motivation to find it. Most people I relate this too, are a bit incredulous and envision the process to be much less pleasant than it actually is. There are dumpsters to avoid and dumpsters that are not often fruitful bit there are those that pay off like a gamblers dream of a broken slot machine.
Sometimes it is very predictable which will pay and which will not. I used to avoid the dollar store dumpster for example. If I don't want most of the stuff inside, why would I want the knick-knacks after they are chipped and broken and thrown out? I changed my mind one night years ago when I pulled 35 brand new Duncan brand yo-yo's still in the packaging.
Last night I was visiting the dumpster I consider my green grocer behind Safeway. I don't know if all Safeway's are this way, or if the affluence of the area is a factor, but they are very choosy about their produce. If an apple is too large or two small or misshapen much less bird-pecked it is culled. Anything even close to over-ripe is tossed. I find better produce in their dumpster than I can get INSIDE the produce departments of many other stores. The 18 wheeler was idling there so I cruised on by and hit the dollar store dumpster. I call it "neighbor trash" when people ignore the "no tresspassing" and "no dumping" signs and risk a $500 fine to illegally dispose of things behind stores. Somebody had 1/2 filled the otherwise nearly empty dumpster. I almost found out the hard way that some of it was a large plastic planter filled with glass shards. The kids regular ignore my threats of bodily harm and make off with my dive light. I was diving by the very bright display back light of my Motorolla blue-tooth enabled camera phone. The blue tooth I use less often then the glow of the screen.
After I negotiated my way into the dumpster safely I was able to see by the glow the labels on the cans. It turns out someone had thrown away 59 size #10 cans of long term food storage. I got flour, sugar, dried apples, rice, powdered milk and 2 gallons of canola oil. Once the semi-truck left and I got a 1/2 bushel of limes and a box of mixed apples, pomegranates and bananas.
Tonight I baked 4 loaves of very good white bread using nothing purchased but the yeast. I even sliced the bread with a bread knife that I got from one of my end-of-the-month apartment dumpster forays. Sliced bread really is the best thing.
I took a picture of the bounty for last night and had in mind I would cut and paste this entry for the post on the new diving log blog if I ever get around to starting it.
I have often thought it would be fun to keep track of the approximate retail value of what it is I find, maybe take a few pictures. I enjoy doing it even when I have no need financially to do so. In fact I am more likely to do so if it isn't a needful thing, I have nothing against those that do subsistence diving and have done so myself. Wen I am out lurking in the night and on the rare occasion I see another diver, I often try to discern whether they are a for profit salvage expert or someone just down on their luck. If the former I will swoop in ahead of them and feel no pangs of conscience in leaving the cupboard bare. If I see signs that someone else is frequenting the same dumpster I visit, I will set aside things that I don't need in a place they will see on their visit.
Lately it has been a subsistence thing for me. Business is non-existent. I was renegotiating the repayment of my mortgage with a couple of different reps at my mortgage holder's servicing agent. They found my estimate for groceries and sundries for 7 persons to be unrealistically low. It was in fact higher than I actually spend.
I am a supremely competent scrounge. I can find just about anything if I have the motivation to find it. Most people I relate this too, are a bit incredulous and envision the process to be much less pleasant than it actually is. There are dumpsters to avoid and dumpsters that are not often fruitful bit there are those that pay off like a gamblers dream of a broken slot machine.
Sometimes it is very predictable which will pay and which will not. I used to avoid the dollar store dumpster for example. If I don't want most of the stuff inside, why would I want the knick-knacks after they are chipped and broken and thrown out? I changed my mind one night years ago when I pulled 35 brand new Duncan brand yo-yo's still in the packaging.
Last night I was visiting the dumpster I consider my green grocer behind Safeway. I don't know if all Safeway's are this way, or if the affluence of the area is a factor, but they are very choosy about their produce. If an apple is too large or two small or misshapen much less bird-pecked it is culled. Anything even close to over-ripe is tossed. I find better produce in their dumpster than I can get INSIDE the produce departments of many other stores. The 18 wheeler was idling there so I cruised on by and hit the dollar store dumpster. I call it "neighbor trash" when people ignore the "no tresspassing" and "no dumping" signs and risk a $500 fine to illegally dispose of things behind stores. Somebody had 1/2 filled the otherwise nearly empty dumpster. I almost found out the hard way that some of it was a large plastic planter filled with glass shards. The kids regular ignore my threats of bodily harm and make off with my dive light. I was diving by the very bright display back light of my Motorolla blue-tooth enabled camera phone. The blue tooth I use less often then the glow of the screen.
After I negotiated my way into the dumpster safely I was able to see by the glow the labels on the cans. It turns out someone had thrown away 59 size #10 cans of long term food storage. I got flour, sugar, dried apples, rice, powdered milk and 2 gallons of canola oil. Once the semi-truck left and I got a 1/2 bushel of limes and a box of mixed apples, pomegranates and bananas.
Tonight I baked 4 loaves of very good white bread using nothing purchased but the yeast. I even sliced the bread with a bread knife that I got from one of my end-of-the-month apartment dumpster forays. Sliced bread really is the best thing.
I took a picture of the bounty for last night and had in mind I would cut and paste this entry for the post on the new diving log blog if I ever get around to starting it.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Cat hasn't got my tongue...
I have been typing at about the same several thousand word a week pace, its just that well, I don't know how to tell you this, so I'll just come out and say it. There is someone else.
I think I mentioned previously that Dirty Filthy Princess' Blog inspired me to ask Dee to resurrect her short-lived sexblog. She did and we have been writing more explicitly there, together. It has been to say the least interesting. We have already had 19 visitors even though we have told NO ONE of its existence. It is nice to have a no-holds-barred place to write salaciously.
Whether it is lief following art of the other way around, things have gotten well sort of more adventurous. This is all good and fun,but we made plans last night to be a little more typically vanilla. This is relevant here because it was dressing related. Dee insists that the presence of two pairs of panties in the scene violated the vanilla label, but I see it as just a reminder that a softer approach was planned. However those plans went in each of our minds we found a comfortable and very enjoyable place, in a softer but non-vanilla place. Maybe more akin to soft-serve vanilla/strawberry swirl of fat-free frozen yogurt....
I think I mentioned previously that Dirty Filthy Princess' Blog inspired me to ask Dee to resurrect her short-lived sexblog. She did and we have been writing more explicitly there, together. It has been to say the least interesting. We have already had 19 visitors even though we have told NO ONE of its existence. It is nice to have a no-holds-barred place to write salaciously.
Whether it is lief following art of the other way around, things have gotten well sort of more adventurous. This is all good and fun,but we made plans last night to be a little more typically vanilla. This is relevant here because it was dressing related. Dee insists that the presence of two pairs of panties in the scene violated the vanilla label, but I see it as just a reminder that a softer approach was planned. However those plans went in each of our minds we found a comfortable and very enjoyable place, in a softer but non-vanilla place. Maybe more akin to soft-serve vanilla/strawberry swirl of fat-free frozen yogurt....
Thursday, November 15, 2007
I now have the NUMBER ONE blog....
...according to Google for anyone searching blogs for the phrase "drivers license weight". THats right NUmero Uno~!
Oddly, my post on the subject of October 3th was only tangentially on topic for the theme of my blog. I felt kind of guilty because the number two entry was more recent (October 5th) and on a blog that actually is about dieting. Felt kind of bad, like a usurper to the throne.
The individual actually stayed and read for 6 minutes, which is kind of unusual since although there are guys and gals that dig a dude in a dress, thats really not who one expects to bump into in the course of the day.
Try this - at lunch today at some chain fast food place, stare at the door and try to imagine that the next guy through the door is wearing panties underneath his Dickie's work pants. Weird, no? or what if that chick with the long hair, sunglasses, athletic hips is actually a guy. Its one thing to go to a gay bar on drag night, but looking for recipes, and finding out maybe for the first time that there are straight married crossdressers would be at the least, disconcerting I would think.
On the subject of Drivers License Weight, both Dee and I do not have the correct weight on our licenses. Interestingly, we both claim a weight of 150. Neither of us measure UP to that standard. As I stated previously, my license weight on the license before this one was 135. At the time it was a hopeful ideal that some day with enough protein powder and weightlifting I could gain that next 20-25 lbs. At my most recent nadir of weight..(Apogee of weight loss) of 131 I'm fine with my weight. I'd like a more toned midsection, but apparently not enough to actually do the crunches. I wouldn't mind adjustable clavicles and rib cage to get my manly frame into a more proportionate dress size, but over all I think I am at the ideal size to skip back and forth across the no-man's land between the masculine and the feminine.
Plaid shirt, snug jeans,work boots and a days scruff, and I am like Ron White would say a "Manly Man". A sleeveless blouse, even tighter jeans (tucked), sensible heels, a close shave, some foundation, blush, lipstick, eyeliner, eyeshadow, a wigs and 'Voila!' I am a girly gurl. It sure is more trouble to be a girl though. Probably why nearly all of these entries have been composes "En Homme"
Oddly, my post on the subject of October 3th was only tangentially on topic for the theme of my blog. I felt kind of guilty because the number two entry was more recent (October 5th) and on a blog that actually is about dieting. Felt kind of bad, like a usurper to the throne.
The individual actually stayed and read for 6 minutes, which is kind of unusual since although there are guys and gals that dig a dude in a dress, thats really not who one expects to bump into in the course of the day.
Try this - at lunch today at some chain fast food place, stare at the door and try to imagine that the next guy through the door is wearing panties underneath his Dickie's work pants. Weird, no? or what if that chick with the long hair, sunglasses, athletic hips is actually a guy. Its one thing to go to a gay bar on drag night, but looking for recipes, and finding out maybe for the first time that there are straight married crossdressers would be at the least, disconcerting I would think.
On the subject of Drivers License Weight, both Dee and I do not have the correct weight on our licenses. Interestingly, we both claim a weight of 150. Neither of us measure UP to that standard. As I stated previously, my license weight on the license before this one was 135. At the time it was a hopeful ideal that some day with enough protein powder and weightlifting I could gain that next 20-25 lbs. At my most recent nadir of weight..(Apogee of weight loss) of 131 I'm fine with my weight. I'd like a more toned midsection, but apparently not enough to actually do the crunches. I wouldn't mind adjustable clavicles and rib cage to get my manly frame into a more proportionate dress size, but over all I think I am at the ideal size to skip back and forth across the no-man's land between the masculine and the feminine.
Plaid shirt, snug jeans,work boots and a days scruff, and I am like Ron White would say a "Manly Man". A sleeveless blouse, even tighter jeans (tucked), sensible heels, a close shave, some foundation, blush, lipstick, eyeliner, eyeshadow, a wigs and 'Voila!' I am a girly gurl. It sure is more trouble to be a girl though. Probably why nearly all of these entries have been composes "En Homme"
s
This post was started by our toddler. She has incredibly quick hands and has had a laptop within reach for her entire life. She loves to lash out and hit random keys.
She and I have an understanding. She IS allowed to incessantly press the mute button and the volume buttons on the side of the laptop. She likes to make the little toddler sized button light up and go out as she presses it. Give her an inch though...
She hits odd sequences of keys and brings up help screens and odd windows that I never before knew existed. This little genius excels at discovering hot keys. She, stuck in the middle of the bed cannot reach the right half of the keyboard to hit the enter key before I can administer a swat to her little hand. some how she typed a sequence of 4-5 keys that entered the "s" and hit publish post.
Her two older sisters I nicknamed persistent and irrepressible. The oldest seems to always strive to stay sunny in her effort find yet another way to still get what it is that she wants to do thus irrepressible. The middle one is an evil genius and from a young age never ever accepted no for an answer. She seemed to have an unlimited pain threshold, and would just glower at you if discipline was attempted. This one is by far more difficult than any of the other kids. TO top it off she is tiny, most likely will be considered technically a little person. As I understand it an adult under 4'10" qualifies. She is just not that interested in nourishment and is short as well. She looks like a little cherub. An evil evil cherub. There's a reason these frightening creatures are used to guard the entrance to the Garden of Eden. WHo would dare pass them.
I gotta go, she is , as we speak, one-by-one, removing each wipe from the box and throwing them to the four winds. The cat, buried under a pile of wet wipes is less amused than I.
She and I have an understanding. She IS allowed to incessantly press the mute button and the volume buttons on the side of the laptop. She likes to make the little toddler sized button light up and go out as she presses it. Give her an inch though...
She hits odd sequences of keys and brings up help screens and odd windows that I never before knew existed. This little genius excels at discovering hot keys. She, stuck in the middle of the bed cannot reach the right half of the keyboard to hit the enter key before I can administer a swat to her little hand. some how she typed a sequence of 4-5 keys that entered the "s" and hit publish post.
Her two older sisters I nicknamed persistent and irrepressible. The oldest seems to always strive to stay sunny in her effort find yet another way to still get what it is that she wants to do thus irrepressible. The middle one is an evil genius and from a young age never ever accepted no for an answer. She seemed to have an unlimited pain threshold, and would just glower at you if discipline was attempted. This one is by far more difficult than any of the other kids. TO top it off she is tiny, most likely will be considered technically a little person. As I understand it an adult under 4'10" qualifies. She is just not that interested in nourishment and is short as well. She looks like a little cherub. An evil evil cherub. There's a reason these frightening creatures are used to guard the entrance to the Garden of Eden. WHo would dare pass them.
I gotta go, she is , as we speak, one-by-one, removing each wipe from the box and throwing them to the four winds. The cat, buried under a pile of wet wipes is less amused than I.
Monday, November 12, 2007
Reminder of the serious nature of transphobic reactions.
Last Thursday, I was minding my own business, as I recall dressed en homme over and under other than maybe some femme jeans.
I heard some incredible bigotry coming out of my radio as some local Disc Jockeys went on about their revulsion with "sick" or "mentally ill" or having a "mental disorder" speaking specifically about "those kind of people" referring to a local transwoman semi-reluctant activist as "it".
Had those statements been made about Blacks, Jews, or Gays, they would be fired.
Mostly they just displayed their ignorance. I mean that literally as one who has not learned the basics of a subject and really don;t know even what it is that they don;t know.
Some of the things they said included:
"We used to have attics we could like crazy relatives like that up in."
(joking after the sidekick expressed sincerely that trans persons should have 'thier own place to go') "I am not advocating Nazi round-up like my associate here, I don;t want to put them on their own island or anything."
Many comments about how genitals dictate which bathroom one uses always.
Their rant was brought out by a picture of a transperson in an attractive dress and pose. They stated that a GG in such sexy presentation would draw fire as being too sexy for a local newspapers magazine insert. I went to the paper's online publication and scrolled down to the comments on various trans related articles of late.
The vitriol was visceral. Including one from a self identified gay (cis male) reader. He felt that the "trannies" should just drop it and find their own place or use the separate (just added) bathroom.
As I searched and read and followed links through the gay community I was astounded at the level of bigotry and hatred from gays for transgendered persons. Not all of course, but those that did express revulsion did it with at least the fervor of what you'd find in the average fundamentalist Christian congregation towards gays for example.
I get that when gay men do drag performance to mock GG's (that they don't of course find sexually desirable) that it is camp and fun and vaguely misogynistic. I never thought they in some cases would be so transphobic themselves. I don;t prefer to see a hot GG in dumpy overalls any more than they like seeing a handsome slender man in a dress, but I don't find a girl in drab disgusting or cause for revulsion.
My reading took me away from the insulated world of crossdressers discussing cute clothes and into the rough and manly in a contrived sort of way of the comments sections on some otherwise thoughtful posts in the homo-blogger community. This week the amputation of the T in GLB-T in the pending employment discrimination legislation ( ENDA ). This I had been neutral about not because I agree with leaving those with alternate gender expression behind, but because it doesn't matter to me personally. I have no intention of presenting in a public way in a manner that would likely lead to discrimination in my self employed workplace. What brought home to me their disgust with gender-queer issues was that they seemed not to care at all about their gay and lesbian and bisexual brothers and siters who present in any other way than the CIS (as you were born) way. Their attitude seemed to be, who cares about drag queens and the bull dykes. They are on the fringe and not worthy of our love and support since they only bring down the image that CIS presenting gays want to present.
Good that came of this is I am seriously rethinking any plans I have and to patronize or provide background entertainment for a local gay bar. It also has led to a desire to be more up to date and informed on the broader world of GBL and Separately T. Ironic really because one of the things that kept me closeted for 38 years is it seemed "gay" to wear women's nylons. Only when i finally got my mind around the fact that gays like manly expression and that gender and orientation are really not even connected was I able to come out to my wife to such wonderful results. I was working hard to put aside my learned and maybe in-bred prejudices about the gay community and to see all persons as worth knowing. Now I am thinking I fit in at a gay bar as much as a lovely monogamous gay couple belongs sitting next to me in church.
As a white guy, Ive never had trouble finding persons of color in my circle of friends and laugh at the idea that having a "black friend" insulates one from charges of bigotry. I could really use a "gay friend" about now. He would make a good beard. I actually do have a number of gay and bi friends. The problem is they are all crossdressers and most are a bit confused about their orientation so I'm not sure I get to "count" them.
I hadn't figured out where to fit these into this entry so in no particular order this post was inspired by 98 KUPD mid morning, AZCentral.com, joe.my.god his comments section on a post, and a nice response on joe.my.god's by maine gay.
I heard some incredible bigotry coming out of my radio as some local Disc Jockeys went on about their revulsion with "sick" or "mentally ill" or having a "mental disorder" speaking specifically about "those kind of people" referring to a local transwoman semi-reluctant activist as "it".
Had those statements been made about Blacks, Jews, or Gays, they would be fired.
Mostly they just displayed their ignorance. I mean that literally as one who has not learned the basics of a subject and really don;t know even what it is that they don;t know.
Some of the things they said included:
"We used to have attics we could like crazy relatives like that up in."
(joking after the sidekick expressed sincerely that trans persons should have 'thier own place to go') "I am not advocating Nazi round-up like my associate here, I don;t want to put them on their own island or anything."
Many comments about how genitals dictate which bathroom one uses always.
Their rant was brought out by a picture of a transperson in an attractive dress and pose. They stated that a GG in such sexy presentation would draw fire as being too sexy for a local newspapers magazine insert. I went to the paper's online publication and scrolled down to the comments on various trans related articles of late.
The vitriol was visceral. Including one from a self identified gay (cis male) reader. He felt that the "trannies" should just drop it and find their own place or use the separate (just added) bathroom.
As I searched and read and followed links through the gay community I was astounded at the level of bigotry and hatred from gays for transgendered persons. Not all of course, but those that did express revulsion did it with at least the fervor of what you'd find in the average fundamentalist Christian congregation towards gays for example.
I get that when gay men do drag performance to mock GG's (that they don't of course find sexually desirable) that it is camp and fun and vaguely misogynistic. I never thought they in some cases would be so transphobic themselves. I don;t prefer to see a hot GG in dumpy overalls any more than they like seeing a handsome slender man in a dress, but I don't find a girl in drab disgusting or cause for revulsion.
My reading took me away from the insulated world of crossdressers discussing cute clothes and into the rough and manly in a contrived sort of way of the comments sections on some otherwise thoughtful posts in the homo-blogger community. This week the amputation of the T in GLB-T in the pending employment discrimination legislation ( ENDA ). This I had been neutral about not because I agree with leaving those with alternate gender expression behind, but because it doesn't matter to me personally. I have no intention of presenting in a public way in a manner that would likely lead to discrimination in my self employed workplace. What brought home to me their disgust with gender-queer issues was that they seemed not to care at all about their gay and lesbian and bisexual brothers and siters who present in any other way than the CIS (as you were born) way. Their attitude seemed to be, who cares about drag queens and the bull dykes. They are on the fringe and not worthy of our love and support since they only bring down the image that CIS presenting gays want to present.
Good that came of this is I am seriously rethinking any plans I have and to patronize or provide background entertainment for a local gay bar. It also has led to a desire to be more up to date and informed on the broader world of GBL and Separately T. Ironic really because one of the things that kept me closeted for 38 years is it seemed "gay" to wear women's nylons. Only when i finally got my mind around the fact that gays like manly expression and that gender and orientation are really not even connected was I able to come out to my wife to such wonderful results. I was working hard to put aside my learned and maybe in-bred prejudices about the gay community and to see all persons as worth knowing. Now I am thinking I fit in at a gay bar as much as a lovely monogamous gay couple belongs sitting next to me in church.
As a white guy, Ive never had trouble finding persons of color in my circle of friends and laugh at the idea that having a "black friend" insulates one from charges of bigotry. I could really use a "gay friend" about now. He would make a good beard. I actually do have a number of gay and bi friends. The problem is they are all crossdressers and most are a bit confused about their orientation so I'm not sure I get to "count" them.
I hadn't figured out where to fit these into this entry so in no particular order this post was inspired by 98 KUPD mid morning, AZCentral.com, joe.my.god his comments section on a post, and a nice response on joe.my.god's by maine gay.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Just traded most of my crossdressing wardrobe away...
..in exchange for a well dressed wife. I know, I know, when you think drag queen you think sequins and feathers and spandex..Oh My!
In truth I have been asking her help and advice putting together skirts and blouses which dresses flatter, and so forth. So, really I was shopping to her taste anyway. In a way it is my taste too because I always liked the way she put herself together.
Once, a few months and many pounds ago,I was trying to do some more self-less shopping. I bought a skirt or two for me,but was concentrating on finding flattering clothes for Dee. It was a real eye-opener about the lack of cute clothes for larger sized girls. It was impossible. Aisle after aisle, shapeless garments. Not even interesting fabrics or textures or colors. It is like the whole point of clothing after about size 12 and certainly after size 14 is strictly camouflage. "Hide me!" the clothes scream.
Down now sixty lbs and within 12 lbs of my weight, Dee has slithered her hips into most of my wardrobe. Some of my early purchases are a little loose on her and the rest is within sight.
I inhaled into a couple of pairs of low-rise size 6 jeans that I feel confident her curves will not fit into, but I thought that about the size 10 suit!
I am torn, on the one hand I feel naked in my own closet. On the other hand she looks hot. I'm Ok with that.
In truth I have been asking her help and advice putting together skirts and blouses which dresses flatter, and so forth. So, really I was shopping to her taste anyway. In a way it is my taste too because I always liked the way she put herself together.
Once, a few months and many pounds ago,I was trying to do some more self-less shopping. I bought a skirt or two for me,but was concentrating on finding flattering clothes for Dee. It was a real eye-opener about the lack of cute clothes for larger sized girls. It was impossible. Aisle after aisle, shapeless garments. Not even interesting fabrics or textures or colors. It is like the whole point of clothing after about size 12 and certainly after size 14 is strictly camouflage. "Hide me!" the clothes scream.
Down now sixty lbs and within 12 lbs of my weight, Dee has slithered her hips into most of my wardrobe. Some of my early purchases are a little loose on her and the rest is within sight.
I inhaled into a couple of pairs of low-rise size 6 jeans that I feel confident her curves will not fit into, but I thought that about the size 10 suit!
I am torn, on the one hand I feel naked in my own closet. On the other hand she looks hot. I'm Ok with that.
Shoes...Let's get some shoes...
This morning Dee tried on the dove-for heels and found they are 8.5 wide and are too big. If anything they are too big for me also but in a pinch they'll do. I'm pretty sure that takes me to well over 40 pairs just since May. Also this morning Dee found that two pairs of her heels are to loose because of her dieting. A little stretching and maybe I score two more to the Barbara column. Yes, it is a contest.
We need a bigger closet. Ironic since I am spending less time "in the closet" so to speak.
We need a bigger closet. Ironic since I am spending less time "in the closet" so to speak.
Peppers, pickled and not.
I am feeling better.
I had some work to do. Work is good, it gives me a sense of purpose. Wasn't sure I could arise form the funk to do it, but needed to. I decided to just begin, nibble away at it and see what happened. I did some research, sent it to the print que, didn't bother to go down and plug it in. Someone needs to send me one of those wifi printers to test like the vibrators they send to sex-bloggers...
Anyway, Dee wanted to shop. We have no money but I did see last week some brand new size 11 Doc Martin's I want to get for my brother-in-law to say thanks for letting me crash at his place when I was laying low from Roscoe and Cletus awaiting my job interview. Saturdays is often 50% of day so we had planned to go back and nab them. We were too late :(
I wasn't feeling like spending any money, but I had fun. I tried on two dresses that will be $1 next Thursday according to their tag color they were 1/2 of of $14.99 and $24.99 respectively today. I had worn pantyhose under my jeans and tucked so it made the changing room mirror slightly less ridiculous. Still the fits weren't optimal,but one had a cute gathered hemline which was brief enough to be interesting. I found a pair of men styled loafers but with pointy toes and 3" slightly thick heels. I put them on and clomped across the entire store, keeping a rack of clothes between me and the other patrons to show Dee. She smiled not so much at the shoes but my obvious ploy for attention and the risky outing myself behavior. I found them comfortable, and should have bought them for $5 but I put them back. Later at home Dee tells me that an older lady definitely did notice my antics and was mouth agape over it. She was probably just in wonderment at how well they went with my black boot cut Calvin Klein stretch jeans.
Almost bought some Donny Osmond style purple socks, but Dee wasn't as turned on by them as I expected so I put them back.
We ran into an old friend in the parking lot. Reading between the lines of his use of we and us,we figured out he and his wife had overcome the divorce and apparently were back together..hope springs eternal. He knows of my diving habits. In fact he is the very friend who once loaned me his copy of Hoffman's "The Art and Science of Dumpster Diving" which turned me hard-core militant about the sport. I told him about the 36 dove-for plastic pumpkins I was planning on donating to Goodwill for the tax write-off and the 20% off on your next purchase of $10 or more.
Next stop: we went to the house to be auctioned that a client had asked me to render an opinion about, I gathered some details and then off to the next Goodwill.
Here I found 4 Corelle bowls and an A&W Root Bear mug, one trip to the freezer away from being frosty.
I came home, took a nap...had to get up for a charitable assignment I understood to involve setting up or possibly taking down chairs. Turns out it was moving 40' long solid oak church pews that had been removed temporarily to make way for an orchestra. Much heavier than folding chairs as it turned out. My new 132 lb frame made it more obvious that I wasn't holding up my end so to speak and some more burly types stepped in cheerfully and without shame to assist. Good bunch of guys.
This for reasons that escape me had to be done at 9:30 pm. My night-owl 12 year old daughter wanted to go with. Afterwards, we did a little subsistence diving consisting of some 6" across tomatoes, some apples on steroids, so Lilliputian potatoes, some sweet potatoes some bread stuffs and a 1/2 peck of un-pickled peppers.
After sorting,cleaning and discarding, we had a couple of fruit boxes that needed to go back to a dumpster so as not to load up our home receptacles. I was going to dump them at the church, but when the 12 year old jumped in the van primed for adventure, I decided to take her for some recreational diving. Interestingly, the very first apartment complex dumpster we hit had a box of girly stuff in it that she liked and topically a bottle of pickled cucumbers, sans the juice. Squealing with delight she divided the booty more or less fairly in piles of things for the less girly 10 year old and the 8 year old boy. We got a industrial quality mop bucket with wringer I actually did want that, the grocery store version we have is shite. We got 4 pairs of heels in Dee's size. Included in the bounty were bracelets, necklaces and a piggy bank with two gold coin chocolates and an actual US 50 cent piece. Theres a Fiddy cent I can appreciate. In one dumpster I say an actual gallon jar of pickled peppers. Pepperoncinis to be precise.
All in all a productive day that might as likely ended with me typing how I hadn't gotten out of bed at all.
I had some work to do. Work is good, it gives me a sense of purpose. Wasn't sure I could arise form the funk to do it, but needed to. I decided to just begin, nibble away at it and see what happened. I did some research, sent it to the print que, didn't bother to go down and plug it in. Someone needs to send me one of those wifi printers to test like the vibrators they send to sex-bloggers...
Anyway, Dee wanted to shop. We have no money but I did see last week some brand new size 11 Doc Martin's I want to get for my brother-in-law to say thanks for letting me crash at his place when I was laying low from Roscoe and Cletus awaiting my job interview. Saturdays is often 50% of day so we had planned to go back and nab them. We were too late :(
I wasn't feeling like spending any money, but I had fun. I tried on two dresses that will be $1 next Thursday according to their tag color they were 1/2 of of $14.99 and $24.99 respectively today. I had worn pantyhose under my jeans and tucked so it made the changing room mirror slightly less ridiculous. Still the fits weren't optimal,but one had a cute gathered hemline which was brief enough to be interesting. I found a pair of men styled loafers but with pointy toes and 3" slightly thick heels. I put them on and clomped across the entire store, keeping a rack of clothes between me and the other patrons to show Dee. She smiled not so much at the shoes but my obvious ploy for attention and the risky outing myself behavior. I found them comfortable, and should have bought them for $5 but I put them back. Later at home Dee tells me that an older lady definitely did notice my antics and was mouth agape over it. She was probably just in wonderment at how well they went with my black boot cut Calvin Klein stretch jeans.
Almost bought some Donny Osmond style purple socks, but Dee wasn't as turned on by them as I expected so I put them back.
We ran into an old friend in the parking lot. Reading between the lines of his use of we and us,we figured out he and his wife had overcome the divorce and apparently were back together..hope springs eternal. He knows of my diving habits. In fact he is the very friend who once loaned me his copy of Hoffman's "The Art and Science of Dumpster Diving" which turned me hard-core militant about the sport. I told him about the 36 dove-for plastic pumpkins I was planning on donating to Goodwill for the tax write-off and the 20% off on your next purchase of $10 or more.
Next stop: we went to the house to be auctioned that a client had asked me to render an opinion about, I gathered some details and then off to the next Goodwill.
Here I found 4 Corelle bowls and an A&W Root Bear mug, one trip to the freezer away from being frosty.
I came home, took a nap...had to get up for a charitable assignment I understood to involve setting up or possibly taking down chairs. Turns out it was moving 40' long solid oak church pews that had been removed temporarily to make way for an orchestra. Much heavier than folding chairs as it turned out. My new 132 lb frame made it more obvious that I wasn't holding up my end so to speak and some more burly types stepped in cheerfully and without shame to assist. Good bunch of guys.
This for reasons that escape me had to be done at 9:30 pm. My night-owl 12 year old daughter wanted to go with. Afterwards, we did a little subsistence diving consisting of some 6" across tomatoes, some apples on steroids, so Lilliputian potatoes, some sweet potatoes some bread stuffs and a 1/2 peck of un-pickled peppers.
After sorting,cleaning and discarding, we had a couple of fruit boxes that needed to go back to a dumpster so as not to load up our home receptacles. I was going to dump them at the church, but when the 12 year old jumped in the van primed for adventure, I decided to take her for some recreational diving. Interestingly, the very first apartment complex dumpster we hit had a box of girly stuff in it that she liked and topically a bottle of pickled cucumbers, sans the juice. Squealing with delight she divided the booty more or less fairly in piles of things for the less girly 10 year old and the 8 year old boy. We got a industrial quality mop bucket with wringer I actually did want that, the grocery store version we have is shite. We got 4 pairs of heels in Dee's size. Included in the bounty were bracelets, necklaces and a piggy bank with two gold coin chocolates and an actual US 50 cent piece. Theres a Fiddy cent I can appreciate. In one dumpster I say an actual gallon jar of pickled peppers. Pepperoncinis to be precise.
All in all a productive day that might as likely ended with me typing how I hadn't gotten out of bed at all.
Friday, November 9, 2007
non-specific malaise
A little depression. I think mostly externally driven. Lots of chickens coming home to roost. Haven't heard about the job. Not sure if I should have heard by now or not. Had some work in what I've been thinking was my profession. I now realize it is actually a part time job with no expenses and really high professional fees, software requirements, insurance and low rates of collection.
My wanting to avoid making some hard choices is a drain on my energies. I need to follow through and take steps I have already identified.
My wanting to avoid making some hard choices is a drain on my energies. I need to follow through and take steps I have already identified.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Telepathically Tantric
OK last night I was reading several posts on the NSFW, but I consider appropriate blog by Dirty Filthy Princess. I just discovered her blog and was fascinated by some parallels. She, like I had for the most part saved herself for marriage. (Technically, we saved ourselves for the one we eventually married.) In her case it was a mature and thoughtful choice. In my case there was an occasional noble thought, but mostly I was a nerd that could never align my desperate hormonal urges, and actual opportunity, and my conscience at the same time. The perfect storm happened when I met Dee and not to tell her tale or too much of mine, but she had borne a child previously and I assumed that meant a less than immaculate conception.
She was a bit frustrated at the time as we grew closer and explored in ways I had had some opportunities in earlier life but the level of beguilement had not overcome my fortitude. She, (beguiling as Eve on a mission from he who persuadeth to partake of forbidden fruit) did persuade me, and I partook of some from the lower branches of the tree. Her frustration was we'd set a date, we did things that to her mind (and mine now) were certainly more adventurous then simple coupling. But I held out, treasuring the last shred of my virginity as a???? Well, I'm not sure why I did that, it probably was partly because I didn't know what I was missing, and partly because what I was getting was superb. We were actually celibate and chaste in all ways in the week before the wedding as if that absolved previous indiscretions. I am sure glad I didn't think of showing that fortitude say a month before the wedding.I would never have made it.
Anyway as it goes, I told you that so I could tell you this.
I am reading DFP's blog with Dee trying to sleep next to me. Among many posts I read there there were two or three in particular that seized upon my imagination. One was a rather impassioned description of her latest ministrations upon her husbands person with him in a shall we say receptive rather than giving mode. Another, I think alluded to the enthusiasm she has had for his person in this way since they became intimate, and it reminded me of us in our early days, not so much in some of the middle stressful period, and a lot as of late. The last one I cannot describe without being more personal than I want to be, but I shall send a note to Dirty Filthy Princess perhaps thanking her for the telepathic suggestion.
I finally closed the laptop and as it powered down I slipped out of my fem Calvin Kleins and socks, leaving male briefs and a t-shirt. I was pondering things sexual, and aware that Dee has an early day, and that surfing blogs so long had made any overtures a little untimely at this point. Still, I had some energy,and despite my puritanical upbringing that makes it difficult to do even at the age of 42 with a wife who (correctly) thinks it is a normal human event, I began the slow process of self exploration that could well lead to the grievous sin of Onan.
Dee, who I thought was asleep, rolled my direction and much to my embarrassment, her reach found that my briefs were not exactly waist high at the time. A soft hand though turneth away a blush, and I rose to the occasion I put aside all self-critical thoughts of my deviance.
She was in rare form, what I like to call her "artistic" mode. She once had a mall kiosk print 4 business cards with her name and "felatio artist" on it and there was in fact truth in advertising I can attest. I began to wonder if she had read over my shoulder as it was almost a concerto played to surpass the description of DFP efforts. I say this not to demean DFP's obviously worshipful and highly skilled ministrations, but to show the heights achieved here.
At some point she made a request that I am not to sure has ever been done in exactly that way by us in 15 years of sexual gymnastics, which is saying a lot. One doesn't find the truly new that often, although I find the combinations make it new each time.
The specificity of the request seemed to me to have come straight from a line DFP had written, so I assumed it was because she had read the words by the glow of the laptop along with me. She had actually said "You are addicted to blurfing" which I took to be a comment on the fact that I had kept at it till 2AM, and that she had read the blog I had finished last. I thought the enthusiasm was a gentle reminder to my easily obsessed self that there is a real live,willing woman in bed with me and reading about others experiences is a poor substitute.
I went back to blurfing (surfing blogs) none-the-less tonight and was reading some aloud to Dee. I mentioned something that harked back to DFP's and she gave me a blank look. I explained, you know the one you were reading over my shoulder? Nothing. Finally we realized she had read nothing but my mind,and more likely my responses to her. Incredible how in tuned she can be to me at times.
She was a bit frustrated at the time as we grew closer and explored in ways I had had some opportunities in earlier life but the level of beguilement had not overcome my fortitude. She, (beguiling as Eve on a mission from he who persuadeth to partake of forbidden fruit) did persuade me, and I partook of some from the lower branches of the tree. Her frustration was we'd set a date, we did things that to her mind (and mine now) were certainly more adventurous then simple coupling. But I held out, treasuring the last shred of my virginity as a???? Well, I'm not sure why I did that, it probably was partly because I didn't know what I was missing, and partly because what I was getting was superb. We were actually celibate and chaste in all ways in the week before the wedding as if that absolved previous indiscretions. I am sure glad I didn't think of showing that fortitude say a month before the wedding.I would never have made it.
Anyway as it goes, I told you that so I could tell you this.
I am reading DFP's blog with Dee trying to sleep next to me. Among many posts I read there there were two or three in particular that seized upon my imagination. One was a rather impassioned description of her latest ministrations upon her husbands person with him in a shall we say receptive rather than giving mode. Another, I think alluded to the enthusiasm she has had for his person in this way since they became intimate, and it reminded me of us in our early days, not so much in some of the middle stressful period, and a lot as of late. The last one I cannot describe without being more personal than I want to be, but I shall send a note to Dirty Filthy Princess perhaps thanking her for the telepathic suggestion.
I finally closed the laptop and as it powered down I slipped out of my fem Calvin Kleins and socks, leaving male briefs and a t-shirt. I was pondering things sexual, and aware that Dee has an early day, and that surfing blogs so long had made any overtures a little untimely at this point. Still, I had some energy,and despite my puritanical upbringing that makes it difficult to do even at the age of 42 with a wife who (correctly) thinks it is a normal human event, I began the slow process of self exploration that could well lead to the grievous sin of Onan.
Dee, who I thought was asleep, rolled my direction and much to my embarrassment, her reach found that my briefs were not exactly waist high at the time. A soft hand though turneth away a blush, and I rose to the occasion I put aside all self-critical thoughts of my deviance.
She was in rare form, what I like to call her "artistic" mode. She once had a mall kiosk print 4 business cards with her name and "felatio artist" on it and there was in fact truth in advertising I can attest. I began to wonder if she had read over my shoulder as it was almost a concerto played to surpass the description of DFP efforts. I say this not to demean DFP's obviously worshipful and highly skilled ministrations, but to show the heights achieved here.
At some point she made a request that I am not to sure has ever been done in exactly that way by us in 15 years of sexual gymnastics, which is saying a lot. One doesn't find the truly new that often, although I find the combinations make it new each time.
The specificity of the request seemed to me to have come straight from a line DFP had written, so I assumed it was because she had read the words by the glow of the laptop along with me. She had actually said "You are addicted to blurfing" which I took to be a comment on the fact that I had kept at it till 2AM, and that she had read the blog I had finished last. I thought the enthusiasm was a gentle reminder to my easily obsessed self that there is a real live,willing woman in bed with me and reading about others experiences is a poor substitute.
I went back to blurfing (surfing blogs) none-the-less tonight and was reading some aloud to Dee. I mentioned something that harked back to DFP's and she gave me a blank look. I explained, you know the one you were reading over my shoulder? Nothing. Finally we realized she had read nothing but my mind,and more likely my responses to her. Incredible how in tuned she can be to me at times.
As if frequent 1500 word posts are not enough...
I/(We?) need yet another blog. Dee had her own, started me one, one for the family, then one for her photos. She stopped using hers because that vender was awkward. I never wrote a word on mine,and the family one kind of became her main blog and her public face for her vanilla online friends.
Shortly after I started this one, Dee started her non-vanilla blog. It featured fictionalized depictions of some interesting moments of, er well intimacy. It was not, then linked to mine or really anyone else. At some point she thought better of it and deleted the entries, and over time that blog morphed into her wife of a crossdresser blog.
Anyway what made me think of the earlier sexblog was that I needed somewhere to recount the story in my head about something that happened last night, without resorting to the euphemisms that I use here to maintain a reasonably clean and for the most part safe for work blog. Since I do post pictures of me (In sane moments the non-en-femme ones give me pause) It seems I want to be a little less interesting to say, Inside Edition or a tabloid or some local attention if and when this comes to any sort of attention.
Anyway the gist of what I wanted to write is that there have been three occaisons lately where specific things that were on my mind because of blogs or other web pages that I have read, seemed to have been conveyed to Dee telepathically. In two of the cases, I know for a fact she hadn't read what I had read and I hadn;t even hinted I had read that genre that day, the latest that caused me to think about it, I assumed she had read over my shoulder.
I am not sure what I am going to do exactly in my next blog entry about it, but I think I will leave enough details to remind myself what it is I wanted to say, with still being cryptic enough to conform to my pre-conceptions about what this blog is and isn't about.
On the other hand it has been an evolving thing. Non-identifiable personal details about things I like to do creep in for example cooking. It isn't just NSFW stuff that I leave out of this blog. A lot of vanilla stuff I leave out too. For example things I collect, things about the kids like in the vein of kids say the darnedest things, things about my car, my profession, that sort of thing. Mostly mindful never to give enough pieces of the puzzle for the inevitable cyber troll to make grief of my life which is of course none of their business.
Shortly after I started this one, Dee started her non-vanilla blog. It featured fictionalized depictions of some interesting moments of, er well intimacy. It was not, then linked to mine or really anyone else. At some point she thought better of it and deleted the entries, and over time that blog morphed into her wife of a crossdresser blog.
Anyway what made me think of the earlier sexblog was that I needed somewhere to recount the story in my head about something that happened last night, without resorting to the euphemisms that I use here to maintain a reasonably clean and for the most part safe for work blog. Since I do post pictures of me (In sane moments the non-en-femme ones give me pause) It seems I want to be a little less interesting to say, Inside Edition or a tabloid or some local attention if and when this comes to any sort of attention.
Anyway the gist of what I wanted to write is that there have been three occaisons lately where specific things that were on my mind because of blogs or other web pages that I have read, seemed to have been conveyed to Dee telepathically. In two of the cases, I know for a fact she hadn't read what I had read and I hadn;t even hinted I had read that genre that day, the latest that caused me to think about it, I assumed she had read over my shoulder.
I am not sure what I am going to do exactly in my next blog entry about it, but I think I will leave enough details to remind myself what it is I wanted to say, with still being cryptic enough to conform to my pre-conceptions about what this blog is and isn't about.
On the other hand it has been an evolving thing. Non-identifiable personal details about things I like to do creep in for example cooking. It isn't just NSFW stuff that I leave out of this blog. A lot of vanilla stuff I leave out too. For example things I collect, things about the kids like in the vein of kids say the darnedest things, things about my car, my profession, that sort of thing. Mostly mindful never to give enough pieces of the puzzle for the inevitable cyber troll to make grief of my life which is of course none of their business.
Friday, November 2, 2007
From Sling-Backs to Steel-Toes.
I went thrifting, want really into it, probably because Halloween shoppers had grabbed all the 50% off tagged items for crossdressing, slutty, or hobo-esque costumes. By the time Thursday dollar day rolled around there was noting left to mark down to a dollar.
Bought mostly shoes. They are harder for the average shopper to decode, and the colored tags fall off, do it wasn't obvious which were a dollar unless you are a shoe fanatic.
Mostly found ones for Dee, or her sister (who recently put me up for the night whilst hiding out from Roscoe and Cletus and waiting for my Interview the next day).
The 12 year old has feet the same size as the sister-in-law and snagged the cute ones for herself, leaving only the high dollar Anne Klein pumps because she disdains pointing toes. I like pointy toes myself, but not ON myself, even at a relatively modest size 9.5 size, point toes that ad an extra inch or more just scream trannny shoes to me. I want shoes that shrink me a couple of sizes.
I found a great pair of Doc Martins, but they were a Men's eleven. Even though I am wonderfully endowed in other ways,(intellectually, egotistically, humorously, etc etc...)-those would be too big.
I looked some more and found a great pair of scuffed Stanley work boots with the MSHA required steel-reinforced toes and really good remaining tread life. These I spent far more than anything else on at nearly $8. It seemed a good purchase Karma wise to assume I will be needing these for the much needed job I hope to get soon.
Bought mostly shoes. They are harder for the average shopper to decode, and the colored tags fall off, do it wasn't obvious which were a dollar unless you are a shoe fanatic.
Mostly found ones for Dee, or her sister (who recently put me up for the night whilst hiding out from Roscoe and Cletus and waiting for my Interview the next day).
The 12 year old has feet the same size as the sister-in-law and snagged the cute ones for herself, leaving only the high dollar Anne Klein pumps because she disdains pointing toes. I like pointy toes myself, but not ON myself, even at a relatively modest size 9.5 size, point toes that ad an extra inch or more just scream trannny shoes to me. I want shoes that shrink me a couple of sizes.
I found a great pair of Doc Martins, but they were a Men's eleven. Even though I am wonderfully endowed in other ways,(intellectually, egotistically, humorously, etc etc...)-those would be too big.
I looked some more and found a great pair of scuffed Stanley work boots with the MSHA required steel-reinforced toes and really good remaining tread life. These I spent far more than anything else on at nearly $8. It seemed a good purchase Karma wise to assume I will be needing these for the much needed job I hope to get soon.
Rant on the hopeless nature of government interventions.
Outline for a blog entry that didn't get done a short while ago: (I don't normally work off an outline but type stream of consciousness, but I am trying to work on my writing skills and focus my subjects better.)
A thread about daylight savings time inspired a rant. (What doesn't inspire a rant out of my male side?)
Interesting factoid I learned was that the Scotts at sometime (look that up) had a 2 hour change. One seems silly. Farther North 'needs' more daylight?'
I likened the daylight savings idea to the save gas and lives idea about driving 55 for the entire portion of my formative driving years.
Consider a clip of I cant drive 55? Hagar? was he with VH at the time?
Look up stats on accident rates at differing speeds.
Upshot is pick the speed most likely to be obeyed by the most people and you get consistent traffic flow which is more important than nominal speed.
Maybe link to my most recent experience being non-compliant with arbitrarily posted speed 'limits' and the tangential interaction with the Gendarmes that ensued.
A thread about daylight savings time inspired a rant. (What doesn't inspire a rant out of my male side?)
Interesting factoid I learned was that the Scotts at sometime (look that up) had a 2 hour change. One seems silly. Farther North 'needs' more daylight?'
I likened the daylight savings idea to the save gas and lives idea about driving 55 for the entire portion of my formative driving years.
Consider a clip of I cant drive 55? Hagar? was he with VH at the time?
Look up stats on accident rates at differing speeds.
Upshot is pick the speed most likely to be obeyed by the most people and you get consistent traffic flow which is more important than nominal speed.
Maybe link to my most recent experience being non-compliant with arbitrarily posted speed 'limits' and the tangential interaction with the Gendarmes that ensued.
Pondering whilst scratching my wisker-less chin..
Yet another place-holder. I need a blackberry with voice recognition software so I can blog every random thought I have; thus not depriving any of the handful of avid readers the benefit of my disjointed musing.
Having to consider whether an androgynous look might affect me getting the job in a macho environment has given me something to think about.
Was growing beard, part fun, part the wife digs it, part upcoming Halloween, part proving my recent trend towards leaning femme was merely a fun hobby, can quit anytime etc.
Got call about ob interview, wondered about physical, etc, hadn't shaved head, face or anything else in 3 weeks, figured no harm waiting another 10 days. Surprised that when I had decided I could not, the urge to do so increase. Previously I had put it off 3 weeks with no angst, a few days into my 10 day plan to cont. my wo0lification was noteworthy.
Interview went fine, wiskers didnt hurt, surely didnt help either.
Range of motion tests were all I had so far, and no disrobement required. Next step isa call in 2 weeks for full physical. Now my smooth reprieve is delayed further.
Shaved my head and chin. Seemed to help. Feel neutral.
Having to consider whether an androgynous look might affect me getting the job in a macho environment has given me something to think about.
Was growing beard, part fun, part the wife digs it, part upcoming Halloween, part proving my recent trend towards leaning femme was merely a fun hobby, can quit anytime etc.
Got call about ob interview, wondered about physical, etc, hadn't shaved head, face or anything else in 3 weeks, figured no harm waiting another 10 days. Surprised that when I had decided I could not, the urge to do so increase. Previously I had put it off 3 weeks with no angst, a few days into my 10 day plan to cont. my wo0lification was noteworthy.
Interview went fine, wiskers didnt hurt, surely didnt help either.
Range of motion tests were all I had so far, and no disrobement required. Next step isa call in 2 weeks for full physical. Now my smooth reprieve is delayed further.
Shaved my head and chin. Seemed to help. Feel neutral.
Losing ROscoe and CLetus..
Cliff notes:
Job interview 225ish miles away. Light car, heavy foot high revving car. Couple of over matched SUV's with flashing lights in the visors, Lots of adrenaline, no citation.
Version I posted about it..
I would have made the 4 hour leg of the trip in 2.5 hours, but it took me 10 minutes to lose Rosco and Cletus in their Highway Patrol SUV's and then for good measure I went the speed limit for the last 30 miles in case they were running a tascan. (stop watch test, they sometimes radio ahead.) I passed them going 105.
In the 30 seconds it took them to get on the black-top and underway, I had cranked it up a bit more and was nearly a mile ahead. First major defilade, I killed the lights slammed on the four wheel discs until I got it slowed to something the e-brake could handle, and finished the decel, I wheeled it around facing the cops, who were just then cresting the rise.
I thought I was too slow, but with nothing else to do, I hit the lights, hoping from their vantage point it would look like lights appearing from a gully, I gunned it, the went by me at over 100 I was doing a leisurely 70. With a closing rate of 170+ they didn't get much of a look at my car. I was so sure they would catch on two bends in the road later and come back after me. So, nervously I reversed yet again and followed them. To my relief, there was a Y and come to find out both cars went left. My destination was to keep to the right.
I saw only two semi's the whole next 30-40 miles to the state border. I took the road less traveled and that made all the difference.
Today on the way home I was scrupulously within the speed limit, but got pulled over anyway. Heart in the throat, I do think they were checking out anything low and fast his reasoning was a burned out brake light bulb...gave me a repair order and sent me on my way, but the stop was a lot longer than that sort of thing usually is..
I think that was my one and only get of jail free pass for the entire southeast quadrant of the state.
Job interview 225ish miles away. Light car, heavy foot high revving car. Couple of over matched SUV's with flashing lights in the visors, Lots of adrenaline, no citation.
Version I posted about it..
I would have made the 4 hour leg of the trip in 2.5 hours, but it took me 10 minutes to lose Rosco and Cletus in their Highway Patrol SUV's and then for good measure I went the speed limit for the last 30 miles in case they were running a tascan. (stop watch test, they sometimes radio ahead.) I passed them going 105.
In the 30 seconds it took them to get on the black-top and underway, I had cranked it up a bit more and was nearly a mile ahead. First major defilade, I killed the lights slammed on the four wheel discs until I got it slowed to something the e-brake could handle, and finished the decel, I wheeled it around facing the cops, who were just then cresting the rise.
I thought I was too slow, but with nothing else to do, I hit the lights, hoping from their vantage point it would look like lights appearing from a gully, I gunned it, the went by me at over 100 I was doing a leisurely 70. With a closing rate of 170+ they didn't get much of a look at my car. I was so sure they would catch on two bends in the road later and come back after me. So, nervously I reversed yet again and followed them. To my relief, there was a Y and come to find out both cars went left. My destination was to keep to the right.
I saw only two semi's the whole next 30-40 miles to the state border. I took the road less traveled and that made all the difference.
Today on the way home I was scrupulously within the speed limit, but got pulled over anyway. Heart in the throat, I do think they were checking out anything low and fast his reasoning was a burned out brake light bulb...gave me a repair order and sent me on my way, but the stop was a lot longer than that sort of thing usually is..
I think that was my one and only get of jail free pass for the entire southeast quadrant of the state.
Saturday, October 27, 2007
I am a lumberjack, yes, I am...
I took the girls up camping with a bunch of other Dads. (We didn't actually camp, eschewing the rocks and the company of tarantulas for the floor of a cabin.) I wore a plaid shirt and women's jeans because that's what fits. I sat scratching my three-week-old beard and realized that I was in no way feeling en femme. That felt just fine.
I looked around and tried to imagine which men there would be accepting, and which would likely pray for my salvation. I didn't till now wonder which might be at the least recovering crossdressers. I can't imagine any in that particular group. If you can't spot the CD'r in a group of 20-25 men, statistically, you are it.As I was casting about for a way to begin this entry, I thought of
The Lumberjack Song
I don't think I ever actually saw it previously, but Dee mentioned it a couple of years ago before she (or I) had any transgendered framework to put me in. It came up because of a silly picture Dee took of my even sillier outfit. (I was wearing my Lucky Charms pajama pants, Underdog t-shirt, and Davy Crockett hat. I was dancing a jig next to a gas pump in Blythe at about 2:00 in the morning on the way back from Disneyland.) A friend of Dee's who saw the picture, laughed and said that the picture reminded her of the lumberjack song. In context now it seems prescient.
I looked it up and watched it just now. If I had seen it before it wasn't in light of thinking about how people think about the transgendered. If anything I would have thought it funny, silly and that the reaction of those in the background of the lumberjack reasonable. When I think of it now its kinda poignant. His manly friends and his devoted girl are so supportive of the barber's need to dream of a new and different life. The provide the chorus to his fantasy of manly times in the woods. (Which by the way which after Brokeback Mountain sound's well, gay..:)) When he reveals he "likes to put on women's clothes and hang around in bars", they shrink away. He, lost in a pink fog, is oblivious to their revulsion. Pretty apt really I think.
At the end she laments, " I thought you were so rugged!!!"
This may happen even more so because those with any version of transgendered issues are at risk to overcompensate a bit on their manly side. I.for example was the most macho 115 pound man Dee had ever met.
We were talking about it in the context of changes and I pointed out that Christopher Reeve was very rugged, until a tragic fall meant he could do nothing for himself. Not what Dana signed up for, but she handled it with unbelievable grace. Dee mentioned the stereotype of the man who trades in the old wife for a new trophy model every 10 years or so, because he can.
Dee put it this way about the changes for us. "You married Kelly Bundy, and 15 years later are living with Peg."
Referencing her new sleeker look as of late, I said, "You're looking more and more like Kelly Bundy everyday, dear."
She rejoined, lovingly, "So are you, dear!" Its "spice like that" (~The Sheriff.. in the movie Misery) that makes marriage fun.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Dumpster Bruschetta
Petra and I were having an IM conversation about places to be out and about en femme. I mentioned I hadn't as yet, but thought it would be amusing to go dumpster diving.
By way of background, I have long had this hobby, its fun, eco-friendly, a little edgy and gives one a reason to skulk around in the night. Forest Gump's mom had it wrong like is like the contents of a dumpster. Some finds are better than chocolate, Some, considerably less so.
I find I am more inclined to dive when its recreational than a necessity. I have always had a talent for finding needful things, but the ego takes a little hit if one thinks one is reduced to such as opposed to choosing to.
Apartments are always best on weekends especially at the end of the month so normally I wouldn't have gone on a Thursday night. Wanting to have something more interesting to report than some nice ripe tomatoes and a half peck of slightly bird pecked apples, I headed for a favorite gated apartment complex. Its newer, the residents are young and still running up their credit card, so I never leave completely empty handed. I recently refinished a beautiful dining room table from there. It was late enough that there weren't any cars to follow through the gate, so I burned some calories walking the circuit around the parking lot. A couple of open gates denied me the fun of hopping the fence. I almost did anyway for kicks now that I am no longer carrying a field-packs weight of extra caloric reserves around my midsection. I hadn't exactly crossdressed for the excursion but didn't want to risk ruining my one dollar thrift store Calvin Klein womens jeans, so I kept it light and resisted the urge to actually dive in so to speak.
Even with such a cursory search I came away with a GI Joe (he was neither in mufti nor Barbie clothes, just plain BDU's), a pair of apparently outgrown, good condition leather upper old-style roller skates in size 5, some misc snap together build a creature type toys, and a 52" five blade ceiling fan.
Grocery store yielded Roma and slicing tomatoes, zucchini, cucumber, a small pumpkin, a very ripe avocado, a couple of Maya sweet onions, vacuum packed individually sliced reduced-fat baby swiss cheese, and six crusty, baguettes. I left a dozen baguettes, a ripe mango because they seem to go un-eaten around here and lots more.
Before I left I had weighed myself after eating 1/2 a bag of chips. despite eating 900 calories of a full bag of chips then night before I was at the lowest weight in 10 years, at 132 and figured I should have a cookie.I had several Oreos but sliced out the lard sugar filling. No one needs those kind of empty calories...who thought of sweetened lard anyway?
After washing up the produce, I sliced the end off a baguette, split it open and drizzled with olive oil. A little oregano, garlic salt, basil, then sliced tomato, and topped with the cheese. broiled till bubbly then drizzled garlic infused red wine vinegar over that...Yummy!
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Blurfing up a storm...
I have a policy of when a client asks a stupid question - and yes there are stupid questions , Virginia. The degree of stupidity dictates the length of the response. The dumber the question the longer an explanatory letter or addendum they get. SO far as I know, no one has worked out my metric, much less the sarcasm necessary to belabor some of the points. My personal favorite runs to a good page and a 1/2 and explains in some detail how it is that an investor will purchase something at below it's apparent market value due to either the distress of the selling party or the intrinsic appeal or lack there of of the thing purchased. It goes on to explain that once the deficiencies are remedied such as removal of green,shag,cat-peed, carpeting that the renewed appeal of the now fresh-smelling travertine-d object might well fetch on the open market a sum that is greater than the sum of the original purchase price plus the repairs. This odd concept is known as profit and is why investors buy that ugly haunted house on the corner in the first place, aside from their primary motive of course in raising your property values and bringing that wonderful family (or crack dealer as the case may be) to live on your street.
OOOPS starting to get long winded...wouldn't want my readers to feel THEY (both of 'em) were bing punished here....
Anyway, I told you that so I can tell you this....
Dee knows I like to read, was aware that I like to write if only in the context of punishment. She long ago started a blog for me two or more years ago when she started hers, she offered to get me rolling, and even type up my thoughts. She knows well that I have no shortage of opinions on just about any subject you could name. In hindsight, I think she was hoping to unload some of my unloading on the rest of the world who deserved it more than she as she tends to not ask stupid questions.
Flash forward to that fateful forum post I read about straight crossdressers and bi-sexual girls and the weird and funny and sometimes sexy journey that ensued. I acquired a blog again. I wrote, and wrote some more. I have barely paused. I write, I read, I write some more.
I cut, I paste, I slice, dice make julienne fries and then post the recipe.
I have very little idea who reads this. 4,000 people in 3 months or so. That baffles me a bit. Even more so if I consider it to be LESS than 4,000 since that meant some of you all come back for more. I am aware of the existence of masochists, just haven't met many. I mean there is my wife, but when I met her I married her believing this to be a rare species I had collected...but I digress...
I don't know what I want this blog to be but (I think) I have an idea of what I don't want it to be. I am not interested in attracting an audience of trannie-chasers as they tend to be as I understand it, straight males. Since I am a straight male myself, I feel I would have nothing in common with them...hmmm that sounds wrong.. Now if there is a contingent of hot nubile young lesbian tranny-chasers I may reconsider my position vis-a-vis content I choose to provide here.
I do find that pictures tend to lengthen visits, and I am conflicted about what that might mean. I do appreciate the relatively chaste admiration of other crossdressers when and if I can garner it, and really should be secure enough in my own homophobia to not care about the rest.
I also consider the possibility of the wife that has found hubby's panties and goes online searching for hubby wears panties or the like. I'd like to hope for all closeted CD's that at some point they can share this part of themselves, and I can't see my blog helping them much, but I sure don;t want to drive someones wife screaming to the locksmith after reading my blog.
I try to keep my links fairly safe for work. I think about how they might reflect on me.
When I first started I used my blog as a safe repository for all sorts of kinky links that I'd don;t want the kids seeing bookmarked. I then decided for a while to 'clean' it up a little.
I worry now though that it doesn't accurately reflect my online surfing at all. I really enjoy going from one blog to another in random vectors,. I have discovered a lot of really good writers that way. Smile a lot, learned more.
I think I am going to go back to posting links to the blogs I myself read and too heck with you all if you think my magazine rack is looking a little seedy. Theres a pristine copy of scientific American and Omni at the bottom that I'm going to get to right after I read a few more pages of Always Aroused Girl, Belle du Jour, and Confessions of a College Call Girl.
Oh the blurfing...thats my word of the day...Dee taught it to me then rescinded (briefly ) permission to use same when she decided it was in common usage in her vanilla community and if it isn't Web-wide, it may out us...turns out its in fair use.
OOOPS starting to get long winded...wouldn't want my readers to feel THEY (both of 'em) were bing punished here....
Anyway, I told you that so I can tell you this....
Dee knows I like to read, was aware that I like to write if only in the context of punishment. She long ago started a blog for me two or more years ago when she started hers, she offered to get me rolling, and even type up my thoughts. She knows well that I have no shortage of opinions on just about any subject you could name. In hindsight, I think she was hoping to unload some of my unloading on the rest of the world who deserved it more than she as she tends to not ask stupid questions.
Flash forward to that fateful forum post I read about straight crossdressers and bi-sexual girls and the weird and funny and sometimes sexy journey that ensued. I acquired a blog again. I wrote, and wrote some more. I have barely paused. I write, I read, I write some more.
I cut, I paste, I slice, dice make julienne fries and then post the recipe.
I have very little idea who reads this. 4,000 people in 3 months or so. That baffles me a bit. Even more so if I consider it to be LESS than 4,000 since that meant some of you all come back for more. I am aware of the existence of masochists, just haven't met many. I mean there is my wife, but when I met her I married her believing this to be a rare species I had collected...but I digress...
I don't know what I want this blog to be but (I think) I have an idea of what I don't want it to be. I am not interested in attracting an audience of trannie-chasers as they tend to be as I understand it, straight males. Since I am a straight male myself, I feel I would have nothing in common with them...hmmm that sounds wrong.. Now if there is a contingent of hot nubile young lesbian tranny-chasers I may reconsider my position vis-a-vis content I choose to provide here.
I do find that pictures tend to lengthen visits, and I am conflicted about what that might mean. I do appreciate the relatively chaste admiration of other crossdressers when and if I can garner it, and really should be secure enough in my own homophobia to not care about the rest.
I also consider the possibility of the wife that has found hubby's panties and goes online searching for hubby wears panties or the like. I'd like to hope for all closeted CD's that at some point they can share this part of themselves, and I can't see my blog helping them much, but I sure don;t want to drive someones wife screaming to the locksmith after reading my blog.
I try to keep my links fairly safe for work. I think about how they might reflect on me.
When I first started I used my blog as a safe repository for all sorts of kinky links that I'd don;t want the kids seeing bookmarked. I then decided for a while to 'clean' it up a little.
I worry now though that it doesn't accurately reflect my online surfing at all. I really enjoy going from one blog to another in random vectors,. I have discovered a lot of really good writers that way. Smile a lot, learned more.
I think I am going to go back to posting links to the blogs I myself read and too heck with you all if you think my magazine rack is looking a little seedy. Theres a pristine copy of scientific American and Omni at the bottom that I'm going to get to right after I read a few more pages of Always Aroused Girl, Belle du Jour, and Confessions of a College Call Girl.
Oh the blurfing...thats my word of the day...Dee taught it to me then rescinded (briefly ) permission to use same when she decided it was in common usage in her vanilla community and if it isn't Web-wide, it may out us...turns out its in fair use.
Monday, October 22, 2007
The end of the ever-expanding wardrobe.
With the huge volume of $1-day finds at Goodwill my side of the closet has spilled over into quite a bit past the middle.
Today, Dee re-took some ground. My very first leather skirt, that I have dieted out of, she dieted into. It looks great on her. She bought a top last week with a wrap-around look that is perfect with it.
We are thinking of going to a Drag night at a local bar and she now has the outfit. The most expensive part of her outfit is the WalMart black patent-leather, peep-toe pumps.
She came up with a smoky-eyed make-up technique that looks really good in a slutty sort of way..:)
Today, Dee re-took some ground. My very first leather skirt, that I have dieted out of, she dieted into. It looks great on her. She bought a top last week with a wrap-around look that is perfect with it.
We are thinking of going to a Drag night at a local bar and she now has the outfit. The most expensive part of her outfit is the WalMart black patent-leather, peep-toe pumps.
She came up with a smoky-eyed make-up technique that looks really good in a slutty sort of way..:)
Sunday, October 21, 2007
"MAKING" her accept. me...
Some one typed "How to make wife accept crossdressing" into Google. This misguided soul was pretty persistent in his search for the impossible.
He evidently paged through 17 pages of Google entries, and found me right after -
I had a post earlier about odd Google combinations generating hits on my blog. The thing that bugged Dee about it (other than the "MAKE" her part..) was that it was her comment to me on a blog entry about my history that triggered the Google hit.
Yes, she is accepting, and used the word "accept". But how the heck does Google know she is my wife??? No, I didn't "MAKE" her accept me. Really I didn't do anything to persuade her to be accepting. I chose well in general when deciding who to marry, but neither of us are really very much the same people we were 15 years ago.
It occurs to me that his query, and the companion query "How can I MAKE my husband stop crossdressing?" are based on a pretty flawed idea that we can strongly influence another's feelings.
A better question would be- "How can I as a crossdresser better assure my wife of my love for her?" or "How can I assure my crossdressing husband that I love him?"
He evidently paged through 17 pages of Google entries, and found me right after -
Giuliani Tells Christian Right: I Am Not Your Enemy - The Caucus ...
wifes and his new wife has 3(!) husbands. These people don’t know how to make a compromise. It’s stays in a character for ever. ...
thecaucus.blogs.nytimes.com/2007/10/20/giuliani-tells-christian-right-i-am-not-your-enemy
I had a post earlier about odd Google combinations generating hits on my blog. The thing that bugged Dee about it (other than the "MAKE" her part..) was that it was her comment to me on a blog entry about my history that triggered the Google hit.
You have always worn way too much guilt on your shoulders for things that you needn't feel guilty about. And that guilt just feeds itself, leading you to behaviors that aren't appropriate. I wish you could learn to love and accept yourself as I love and accept you.
Yes, she is accepting, and used the word "accept". But how the heck does Google know she is my wife??? No, I didn't "MAKE" her accept me. Really I didn't do anything to persuade her to be accepting. I chose well in general when deciding who to marry, but neither of us are really very much the same people we were 15 years ago.
It occurs to me that his query, and the companion query "How can I MAKE my husband stop crossdressing?" are based on a pretty flawed idea that we can strongly influence another's feelings.
A better question would be- "How can I as a crossdresser better assure my wife of my love for her?" or "How can I assure my crossdressing husband that I love him?"
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Holding the line at 7-8 despite Ron Popeil's best efforts.
My size 7-8 waistline that is. ~inhales gut a bit~
I mentioned earlier that I have a gen-u-wine Ron Popeil Signature Series Pasta Machine. I purchased this treasure for the princely sum of 14.99 less 50% because I did not ACT NOW. Rather, having spotted it on a Thursday, I went back on Saturday 1/2 price day and nabbed it. Seemed to have all the parts. Even though I WAIT!!(ed) there was not MORE! No Ginzu knifes, no lemon zester no second unit for the price of one. Still, it was cheap at twice the price.
No manual though but easily remedied with a PDF I snagged online. Interestingly the Manual has order form in the back for replacement parts, (I seemed to have the basic compliment intact), and optional accessories. Among them was a sausage horn, and casings. Hmm stuffing ones own sausage does sound fun, but I was unwilling to part with more for that plastic part than I paid for the machine.
It did a pretty good job on linguine, fettachini, and some rigatoni. It was tasty and I am still messing around with recipes to find a combination of texture, color and flavor that I like. I am not convinced though that it is so much better than good quality dry past cooked properly. At least when you weigh the time and difficulty of getting all the nooks and crannies clean after. I vaguely remember that the parts are dishwasher safe, but I am not sure putting egg fortified glue is such a good idea for the dishwasher. It takes a while and it exposes my nails to dishwater for longer than is good for them.
What's that you say? Latex kitchen gloves? That just seems a little to femmy to me. I mean I'll wash dishes in an apron and kitten heels but gloves? No man wants to be seen in kitchen gloves.
Anyway the point of this post was supposed to be about my multi-task idea. Alton Brown (a personal hero of mine, dunno if he ever crossdresses, but I think he could pull it off..)..has said don't own any kitchen equipment you can't use for more than one purpose. Watching the little pasta machines dough hooks whirling around I had a flash. Bread dough. Either that or some possible suggestion for such in the PDF I hastily scanned looking for a basic recipe said as much. Doesn't matter, I had resolved I'd abuse the machine some time in that way. Speaking of single use machines I think I own two bread machines, used to use them not sure why I don;t now. Oh right! These machines are used for a month or two then never again..a fate that I fear will soon overtake the pasta maker.
Saturday Dee came home between soccer games, with one hungry kid and needing to take something portable back to another of them still on the field. She complained we were out of bread. She greedily eyed a two dollar bill with a serial number that would be perfect for the owner of a 1974 Oldsmobile ram-air 455 cutlass, and a couple of other questionably interesting singles. Rather than have her give my money to some fast food place, I decided to make some bread. OK this wasn't a practical solution for the needs at hand since the next game was over in 20 minutes. For that I found some whole wheat hamburger buns that were remaindered because only Dee or I will eat them. Even the mold doesn't like them as much. They look nutritious , but they actually are pretty soft and tasty..but I digress. two slices of American so-called cheese, some mayo, some sweet pickle relish. Done.
Meanwhile I looked for a recipe.
Came up with:
2.5 cups flour
2 Tbs oil
1.5 Tbs Canned Evaporated Milk
1/2 cup sugar...(clearly not a diet recipe)
1 1/4 teas salt..(honestly, cooking is chemistry, but 1/4 teaspoon gonna make a difference???)
1 cup 80 degree water. I went with tepid.
1 pkg yeast.
Did that recipe as accurate as I could, ran it around a while, pulled it off all the odd little hooks in the machine and finished kneading by hand. kinda a stiff dough. Dishwasher was still warm, so I put that loaf in there to rise. Started a second loaf in the machine. As I said its a pain to clean, I need at least $3 worth of bread out of it to justify the time. This one I guesstimated proportions, I worried not at all when the milk spilled a little over the spoon, and flour I just dumped a couple of cups not even leveled off and added pinches of flour till the dough looked right.
It was nice and smooth and light and a little hand kneading and it was done. I let it rise and hour and punched it down. I then took a nap and woke 2 hours later. Loaf one was raised but not all that much, loaf two was at the top of the pan.
That recipe was from a bread machine website, and I wasn't using my bread machine much less theres. Another more conventional recipe suggested 400 degrees for 20 minutes. seemed high to me, but I didn't want to make a research career of this little project. 20 minutes later it was browned nicely and the larger one looked perfect, the lesser one still a little flat, about a little over 1/2 a loaf high.
Cooled them a while on a rack, they sliced nicely and tasted great. The larger one had good texture a bit like a dense dinner roll, the smaller a little compacted and doughy but tasty eating with butter. Gotta go easy on the bread and butter. Worked too hard to get into juniors sizes!
I mentioned earlier that I have a gen-u-wine Ron Popeil Signature Series Pasta Machine. I purchased this treasure for the princely sum of 14.99 less 50% because I did not ACT NOW. Rather, having spotted it on a Thursday, I went back on Saturday 1/2 price day and nabbed it. Seemed to have all the parts. Even though I WAIT!!(ed) there was not MORE! No Ginzu knifes, no lemon zester no second unit for the price of one. Still, it was cheap at twice the price.
No manual though but easily remedied with a PDF I snagged online. Interestingly the Manual has order form in the back for replacement parts, (I seemed to have the basic compliment intact), and optional accessories. Among them was a sausage horn, and casings. Hmm stuffing ones own sausage does sound fun, but I was unwilling to part with more for that plastic part than I paid for the machine.
It did a pretty good job on linguine, fettachini, and some rigatoni. It was tasty and I am still messing around with recipes to find a combination of texture, color and flavor that I like. I am not convinced though that it is so much better than good quality dry past cooked properly. At least when you weigh the time and difficulty of getting all the nooks and crannies clean after. I vaguely remember that the parts are dishwasher safe, but I am not sure putting egg fortified glue is such a good idea for the dishwasher. It takes a while and it exposes my nails to dishwater for longer than is good for them.
What's that you say? Latex kitchen gloves? That just seems a little to femmy to me. I mean I'll wash dishes in an apron and kitten heels but gloves? No man wants to be seen in kitchen gloves.
Anyway the point of this post was supposed to be about my multi-task idea. Alton Brown (a personal hero of mine, dunno if he ever crossdresses, but I think he could pull it off..)..has said don't own any kitchen equipment you can't use for more than one purpose. Watching the little pasta machines dough hooks whirling around I had a flash. Bread dough. Either that or some possible suggestion for such in the PDF I hastily scanned looking for a basic recipe said as much. Doesn't matter, I had resolved I'd abuse the machine some time in that way. Speaking of single use machines I think I own two bread machines, used to use them not sure why I don;t now. Oh right! These machines are used for a month or two then never again..a fate that I fear will soon overtake the pasta maker.
Saturday Dee came home between soccer games, with one hungry kid and needing to take something portable back to another of them still on the field. She complained we were out of bread. She greedily eyed a two dollar bill with a serial number that would be perfect for the owner of a 1974 Oldsmobile ram-air 455 cutlass, and a couple of other questionably interesting singles. Rather than have her give my money to some fast food place, I decided to make some bread. OK this wasn't a practical solution for the needs at hand since the next game was over in 20 minutes. For that I found some whole wheat hamburger buns that were remaindered because only Dee or I will eat them. Even the mold doesn't like them as much. They look nutritious , but they actually are pretty soft and tasty..but I digress. two slices of American so-called cheese, some mayo, some sweet pickle relish. Done.
Meanwhile I looked for a recipe.
Came up with:
2.5 cups flour
2 Tbs oil
1.5 Tbs Canned Evaporated Milk
1/2 cup sugar...(clearly not a diet recipe)
1 1/4 teas salt..(honestly, cooking is chemistry, but 1/4 teaspoon gonna make a difference???)
1 cup 80 degree water. I went with tepid.
1 pkg yeast.
Did that recipe as accurate as I could, ran it around a while, pulled it off all the odd little hooks in the machine and finished kneading by hand. kinda a stiff dough. Dishwasher was still warm, so I put that loaf in there to rise. Started a second loaf in the machine. As I said its a pain to clean, I need at least $3 worth of bread out of it to justify the time. This one I guesstimated proportions, I worried not at all when the milk spilled a little over the spoon, and flour I just dumped a couple of cups not even leveled off and added pinches of flour till the dough looked right.
It was nice and smooth and light and a little hand kneading and it was done. I let it rise and hour and punched it down. I then took a nap and woke 2 hours later. Loaf one was raised but not all that much, loaf two was at the top of the pan.
That recipe was from a bread machine website, and I wasn't using my bread machine much less theres. Another more conventional recipe suggested 400 degrees for 20 minutes. seemed high to me, but I didn't want to make a research career of this little project. 20 minutes later it was browned nicely and the larger one looked perfect, the lesser one still a little flat, about a little over 1/2 a loaf high.
Cooled them a while on a rack, they sliced nicely and tasted great. The larger one had good texture a bit like a dense dinner roll, the smaller a little compacted and doughy but tasty eating with butter. Gotta go easy on the bread and butter. Worked too hard to get into juniors sizes!
Barbara's blog comes of age...
I got my very first spam posted in a comment!!
Completely off topic to the blog entry in question and in a foreign language.
Doesn't get much spammier than that.
I figured it was in Portuguese since I recognized a few slight variants of Spanish cognitives and I saw the word "Brasil" in the body of the text. I knew that was Brazilian for their country because that's what was stamped on a lot of Volkswagen parts if it doesn't say "Made in Germany".
To the point of the post below, a couple of words in Google (apparently in any language) can get people here if they follow a convoluted enough path.
A silly example: Since my Blog sometimes veers away from crossdressing specific issues, I once mentioned the various cars I have had. Among them are several VW's. I could have mentioned that I could use a transaxle for two of them. Often this is called a tranny. My first conversation about crossdressing with a sales girl happened to be Brazilian. (I meant that as in she was born there, not waxed that way, although come to think of it she might have been both.)
Imagine if my blog references in one part that I have a tranny left over from a VW I had the I parked when the engine got too hot. (actually it does say that now.) Then in a completely unrelated post I state that the sales girl was from Brazil. This prompts a Google hit for "Too Hot Tranny from Brazil with a Brazilian Wax."
I think we are drowning in information.
I used to be a privacy nut long before identity theft was as common place as it is. I would add "apartment A" or "Unit 12" or some such as a code whenever I filled out a credit card application. I ALWAYS opted out from them selling my name and 85% of the time, shortly I'd get junk mail with Unit 12 on it. I'd call the offending company who would swear they didn't do it. I had a friend with the same privacy concerns I had. His solution actually worked better. He woul fill out any and every form, survey and application that came his way..he would cheerfully answer all their questions, vary spellings, addresses. age, gender. middle initials and so on. Hos theory was that if you kept clogging up their machine with junk data, it would reject it. It seemed to work, he got less junk mail than I. A diligent search for him would burn up a lot of time and expense on false trails.
In case any of the (mostly) English speaking readers of my Blog have a pressing need for what I think is some sort of telecom or ISP services that will reach all parts of Brazil, I will post the most helpful message here. Sorry if the Babblefish translation and my redacting the pertinent URL and contact information causes any confusion. I wonder what the initials F U mean when translated into Portuguese.
Oi, I found its blog for google is well interesting I liked this post. It would like to speak on the F.U.Net. The F.U.Net is a dialed supplier of InterNet that remunerates its users for the hardwired time. Accurately this that you read, is paying you to connect. The paid supplier 20 cents for the moment of connection dialed with local linking for more than 2100 cities of Brazil. The F.U.Net has a connection accelerator, that leaves its faster connection up to 10 times. Who uses broad band can also profit, is enough to register in cadastre itself in the F.U.Net and when it will be to sleep to connect for dialed, it is possible to pay the ADSL alone with the money of the dialed one. In the schedules of only minute the expense with telephone is minimum and the remuneration of the generous F.U.Net. If you I to want to linkar F.U.Net(www.F.U.Net.com) in its blog I would be been thankful, until more and success. (If he will be possible add the F.U.Net(www.F.U.Net.com) in your blogroll I thankful, bye friend).
Interestingly, www.F.U.Net isn't taken...if you steal my idea I want some royalties.
Completely off topic to the blog entry in question and in a foreign language.
Doesn't get much spammier than that.
I figured it was in Portuguese since I recognized a few slight variants of Spanish cognitives and I saw the word "Brasil" in the body of the text. I knew that was Brazilian for their country because that's what was stamped on a lot of Volkswagen parts if it doesn't say "Made in Germany".
To the point of the post below, a couple of words in Google (apparently in any language) can get people here if they follow a convoluted enough path.
A silly example: Since my Blog sometimes veers away from crossdressing specific issues, I once mentioned the various cars I have had. Among them are several VW's. I could have mentioned that I could use a transaxle for two of them. Often this is called a tranny. My first conversation about crossdressing with a sales girl happened to be Brazilian. (I meant that as in she was born there, not waxed that way, although come to think of it she might have been both.)
Imagine if my blog references in one part that I have a tranny left over from a VW I had the I parked when the engine got too hot. (actually it does say that now.) Then in a completely unrelated post I state that the sales girl was from Brazil. This prompts a Google hit for "Too Hot Tranny from Brazil with a Brazilian Wax."
I think we are drowning in information.
I used to be a privacy nut long before identity theft was as common place as it is. I would add "apartment A" or "Unit 12" or some such as a code whenever I filled out a credit card application. I ALWAYS opted out from them selling my name and 85% of the time, shortly I'd get junk mail with Unit 12 on it. I'd call the offending company who would swear they didn't do it. I had a friend with the same privacy concerns I had. His solution actually worked better. He woul fill out any and every form, survey and application that came his way..he would cheerfully answer all their questions, vary spellings, addresses. age, gender. middle initials and so on. Hos theory was that if you kept clogging up their machine with junk data, it would reject it. It seemed to work, he got less junk mail than I. A diligent search for him would burn up a lot of time and expense on false trails.
In case any of the (mostly) English speaking readers of my Blog have a pressing need for what I think is some sort of telecom or ISP services that will reach all parts of Brazil, I will post the most helpful message here. Sorry if the Babblefish translation and my redacting the pertinent URL and contact information causes any confusion. I wonder what the initials F U mean when translated into Portuguese.
Oi, I found its blog for google is well interesting I liked this post. It would like to speak on the F.U.Net. The F.U.Net is a dialed supplier of InterNet that remunerates its users for the hardwired time. Accurately this that you read, is paying you to connect. The paid supplier 20 cents for the moment of connection dialed with local linking for more than 2100 cities of Brazil. The F.U.Net has a connection accelerator, that leaves its faster connection up to 10 times. Who uses broad band can also profit, is enough to register in cadastre itself in the F.U.Net and when it will be to sleep to connect for dialed, it is possible to pay the ADSL alone with the money of the dialed one. In the schedules of only minute the expense with telephone is minimum and the remuneration of the generous F.U.Net. If you I to want to linkar F.U.Net(www.F.U.Net.com) in its blog I would be been thankful, until more and success. (If he will be possible add the F.U.Net(www.F.U.Net.com) in your blogroll I thankful, bye friend).
Interestingly, www.F.U.Net isn't taken...if you steal my idea I want some royalties.
Friday, October 19, 2007
No matter what you write, two words typed into google can find you....
I get visitors to my blog from the oddest of searches. Normally most of the people that read my blog are either regular readers (obviously insomniacs with a need for soporific verbosity),forum members that are following a link either from my siggy or more often when I hyper link there to give the long winded version of a post, or a surprising number that come from Dani's blog who was one of the first people to find me through a search and as far as I know the only blog out there with a link to mine.
All other visitors come from search engine hits.
Dee found a site onetime that MPAA rated your blog is you typed in your url. She got an R, I got a pg-13.It was only one term in my blog on one occasion that got me the 13.
Apparently in explaining that my early interest in making my own little men's mag out of pages from the lingerie sections of catalogs, was innocent in the sense of it not being for masturbatory purposes. Well, including the "tion" version of the word caused some Google interest. I have gotten some hits lately from the combo of Cr0ssdressing and M@sturbation. Not sure what to feel about that. The visitors generally don't stay long unless I have recently posted pics and even then less than a minute.
The most recent one apparently found my blog after paging through THIRTY pages of Google suggestions. That kinda persistence you gotta kinda admire. He stayed for a couple of minutes. I hope he found it informative. The latest pictures I posted I really don't think very likely met his requirements.
On the subject of regular visitors, I know I have some. But I don't really know for sure who your are or where I know you from (assuming I know you at all.) Nearly nobody comments on a post. Likely because I have expressed myself so eloquently n more needs be said).
As a grand experiment, if you happen to read this post in your travels, communicate with me in some fashion. Leave a comment, (anonymous posting is allowed!). Simple as you want. Can be a just "found your blog by searching for _________ ran away scared" or "I am cyberstalking you in preparation for your ultimate demise" or if you wish, "I am ________ on CD.com" "I am a friend of Bill W. and he sent me to see you. Do you dress in the morning? Do you dress alone?" or "THIS IS YOUR MOTHER AND I RESENT THE IMPLICATIONS FOUND HEREIN" (that one I expect any day now..I'd send her a link but I haven't communicated with her in years.)
All other visitors come from search engine hits.
Dee found a site onetime that MPAA rated your blog is you typed in your url. She got an R, I got a pg-13.It was only one term in my blog on one occasion that got me the 13.
Apparently in explaining that my early interest in making my own little men's mag out of pages from the lingerie sections of catalogs, was innocent in the sense of it not being for masturbatory purposes. Well, including the "tion" version of the word caused some Google interest. I have gotten some hits lately from the combo of Cr0ssdressing and M@sturbation. Not sure what to feel about that. The visitors generally don't stay long unless I have recently posted pics and even then less than a minute.
The most recent one apparently found my blog after paging through THIRTY pages of Google suggestions. That kinda persistence you gotta kinda admire. He stayed for a couple of minutes. I hope he found it informative. The latest pictures I posted I really don't think very likely met his requirements.
On the subject of regular visitors, I know I have some. But I don't really know for sure who your are or where I know you from (assuming I know you at all.) Nearly nobody comments on a post. Likely because I have expressed myself so eloquently n more needs be said).
As a grand experiment, if you happen to read this post in your travels, communicate with me in some fashion. Leave a comment, (anonymous posting is allowed!). Simple as you want. Can be a just "found your blog by searching for _________ ran away scared" or "I am cyberstalking you in preparation for your ultimate demise" or if you wish, "I am ________ on CD.com" "I am a friend of Bill W. and he sent me to see you. Do you dress in the morning? Do you dress alone?" or "THIS IS YOUR MOTHER AND I RESENT THE IMPLICATIONS FOUND HEREIN" (that one I expect any day now..I'd send her a link but I haven't communicated with her in years.)
Musings on the etymology of the term 'beard'.
In gay parlance a woman who gives cover to a man wishing to remain closeted is often called a 'beard'. I have recently grown one, Facial hair that is, not another woman.
We have joked about Dee being a 'beard' on shopping trips since it provides 'cover' of purchases that are actually for me.This works better though on those occasions when I am actually embarrassed enough about what it is I am doing to remember not to announce in a loud voice that "I already have on like that!" or "Oh, a 34B will definitely fit me!" Such was the case when several of the guys of varied ethnicities happened to be walking by from the loading docks to the front of the goodwill stores. Having just given the approval to put that $1 long-line boned bra into the cart, they cheerfully inquired if we were finding everything OK. I cheerfully and obliviously responded in the affirmative. I missed entirely their bemused expressions as reported to me by Dee later.
Anyway I got to thinking, why beard? Dee postulated that a beard if a common disguise. Makes sense except when the term I think was invented when gay culture was fairly effeminate. It seems to me that it was only during the permissive porno fueled seventies that the bearded gay man became an archetype.
It stuck me that it that crossdressers being associated necessarily with gay men does actually make sense historically. Before my theoretical time line of 70's porno mustaches, gay men were presenting more effeminately than they tend to do now. I think that it may not be defensive straight crossdressers distancing themselves from the Gay community so much as that gay men rejected femininity at some point recently and the phase of facial hair was a way of asserting that the male form is attractive in its natural state.
Or maybe since everyone associated a limp wristed foppish dandies with being gay*, perhaps growing a stash or a 'beard' was actually started to hide their orientation. SO maybe the term 'beard' originally meant exactly that.
I realize this is all circular logic and harks of chicken and egg, but it is interesting that regardless of how divergent gay trends and crossdressing trends diverge, the public still lumps them together.
Probably nothing that a gay drag performer or a bisexual crossdresser thinks about anyway, since in those instances there is a correlation.
*Not that there is anything wrong with ....................being a foppish dandy!
We have joked about Dee being a 'beard' on shopping trips since it provides 'cover' of purchases that are actually for me.This works better though on those occasions when I am actually embarrassed enough about what it is I am doing to remember not to announce in a loud voice that "I already have on like that!" or "Oh, a 34B will definitely fit me!" Such was the case when several of the guys of varied ethnicities happened to be walking by from the loading docks to the front of the goodwill stores. Having just given the approval to put that $1 long-line boned bra into the cart, they cheerfully inquired if we were finding everything OK. I cheerfully and obliviously responded in the affirmative. I missed entirely their bemused expressions as reported to me by Dee later.
Anyway I got to thinking, why beard? Dee postulated that a beard if a common disguise. Makes sense except when the term I think was invented when gay culture was fairly effeminate. It seems to me that it was only during the permissive porno fueled seventies that the bearded gay man became an archetype.
It stuck me that it that crossdressers being associated necessarily with gay men does actually make sense historically. Before my theoretical time line of 70's porno mustaches, gay men were presenting more effeminately than they tend to do now. I think that it may not be defensive straight crossdressers distancing themselves from the Gay community so much as that gay men rejected femininity at some point recently and the phase of facial hair was a way of asserting that the male form is attractive in its natural state.
Or maybe since everyone associated a limp wristed foppish dandies with being gay*, perhaps growing a stash or a 'beard' was actually started to hide their orientation. SO maybe the term 'beard' originally meant exactly that.
I realize this is all circular logic and harks of chicken and egg, but it is interesting that regardless of how divergent gay trends and crossdressing trends diverge, the public still lumps them together.
Probably nothing that a gay drag performer or a bisexual crossdresser thinks about anyway, since in those instances there is a correlation.
*Not that there is anything wrong with ....................being a foppish dandy!
A suit as English as Fish and Chips...
Dollar Thursday at Goodwill again today. All pink tags $1 all orange 1/2 off. I got 2 evening gowns, 4 skirts, 5 pairs of heels, a top and several swimsuits all for $1. Orange will be $1 next Thursday. Often I will make mental notes about what to get next week.I ran across a $14.99 orange tag that couldn't wait for a week. It was an all wool 2 button suit in a delicate herringbone. It was tailor made of English cloth in Hong Kong when it was proudly still a British Protectorate. It was made in a shop at a Hotel. Back then, businessmen with far east stop-overs or business in Hong Kong would have suits handmade to measure in 3 days or so that easily rivaled Saville Row or New York City $1000 suits for quality. This seemed to be one of those. I have lost weight to the point that like in my younger days I can;t buy off the rack anymore. This suit I estimate was made for a 35 short. I think I am somewhere about there maybe a 34 regular. The jacket hangs off my bony frame well. The trousers are probably 33-34 in the waist which would have fit me 30 pounds ago. I'm going to have to have the seat and waist tucked in 2-3 inches.
On the way home I was joking that I need to add some weight back on to fill out that suit, and passed a fast food place. I think I have eaten fried food maybe twice in the last 3 months while rigorously dieting. Dee laughed when she pointed out that Pirates Fish and Chips adorned with the Union Jack seemed especially appropriate.
This was my previous "English" sport coat. It was $1 and made in America, probably in the late 70's from wool woven in and imported from the UK. I was really happy to find it at the time. It pales by comparison to the new suit.Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Pornography is in th eye of the beholder and the artist.
I thought I posted this before I wanted to quote it in a comment on another's blog about "Porn or Art" about peoples reactions to her self taken "French Postcards", but can't find it so here it is:
Pornography is a construction of some sort of societal or religious framework. Without such constraints, there would be no point in anyone objecting to any image. So pornography for a devout Muslim, may be a little less racy than pornography to a practicing nudist.
It boils down to intent and objectification.
If the portrayal is an effort to "use" the figure for salacious purposes rather than just an expression of beauty, it is probably pornography.
If it really is the intent of the photographer or artist to portray beauty as seen in The Creator's works, then the artist has not "sinned" in creating such a work. That said, it still is upon the viewer and his intent. If one wants to view certain types of images strictly for the buzz of sexual arousal, its probably porn for that viewer.
If I were gay,I'd have to say that Michaelangelo's David is pretty sexy. If I were a serial killer,I'd find Venus de Milo pretty arousing. If I were a lesbian I'd have a thing for Mona Lisa...(hmm she is kinda hot...)
When I was a boy (maybe 8 or 10) and cut pages Penney's lingerie section and pasted them in a book, this was my first pornography. It matters not that the models by today's standards showed less flesh than I might see in public today and certainly less than one sees during the family friendly (so-called) hours of the major networks. It matters not that as at the time I was pre-pubescent and didn't really understand things sexual and obviously wasn't using it for m@sturbation. What matters is that I had heard of magazines that featured scantily clad or (Shock!) nude girls, and I enjoyed the naughty secret of having a view into the mysteries of the female form (and in hindsight the lingerie!!).
Pornography is a construction of some sort of societal or religious framework. Without such constraints, there would be no point in anyone objecting to any image. So pornography for a devout Muslim, may be a little less racy than pornography to a practicing nudist.
It boils down to intent and objectification.
If the portrayal is an effort to "use" the figure for salacious purposes rather than just an expression of beauty, it is probably pornography.
If it really is the intent of the photographer or artist to portray beauty as seen in The Creator's works, then the artist has not "sinned" in creating such a work. That said, it still is upon the viewer and his intent. If one wants to view certain types of images strictly for the buzz of sexual arousal, its probably porn for that viewer.
If I were gay,I'd have to say that Michaelangelo's David is pretty sexy. If I were a serial killer,I'd find Venus de Milo pretty arousing. If I were a lesbian I'd have a thing for Mona Lisa...(hmm she is kinda hot...)
When I was a boy (maybe 8 or 10) and cut pages Penney's lingerie section and pasted them in a book, this was my first pornography. It matters not that the models by today's standards showed less flesh than I might see in public today and certainly less than one sees during the family friendly (so-called) hours of the major networks. It matters not that as at the time I was pre-pubescent and didn't really understand things sexual and obviously wasn't using it for m@sturbation. What matters is that I had heard of magazines that featured scantily clad or (Shock!) nude girls, and I enjoyed the naughty secret of having a view into the mysteries of the female form (and in hindsight the lingerie!!).
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